eight adapts to the surface and gets a girlfriend along the way
by acidhu3s
Summary: Three wishes she would stop feeling like she's about to die whenever she's around Eight. Eight wishes inklings weren't so weird. Four wishes her friends would just make out already so she can continue on with her life. Only one of these come true. [f/f, updates sporadically]
1. 1-1 Three scares away some birds

Three will be the first to admit, she's got some flaws.

1: Three cannot and does not have many hobbies. Like, she's _tried _to have hobbies besides being sick of everyone's shit and turfing, but maintaining more than two (well, really one) interests is _tiring. _It's easier and more cost-efficient to just have one or two real interests, right?

2: Three uses her hobbies as a way to vent frustrations, which isn't too bad on its own, but her hobbies (hobby) are just so fucking _expensive. _Like, fucking hell, maybe Three just wants to whack someone with a roller for a few hours? But then her roller gets damaged because she flails it around like a baseball bat at times and now her roller's fucking broken and, yeah, she _has _an extra one, but it's not _yellow_.

And yellow is inherently better than _purple._

_**Fuck **__purple._

3: She ignores her problems when they come up because it's worked for all of her deep-rooted emotional trauma so it's going to work here, dammit. Like right now, for example, when her roller let out a loud cracking noise towards the end of the match that she just had. And, yeah, the handle is metal, but it's not Sardinium and therefore unable to withstand being slammed into craniums fifty times a day. Which _sucks, _if you're wondering.

The crack in it is in the middle of the handle, which would snap clean in half if she swung it again. _Which __**sucks, **__if you're wondering. _And now Three is just even _more _pissed and stressed about fucking **everything **and she'd usually vent out her frustrations by flinging her roller around dangerously and a bit haphazardly **but she can't do that now **_**because it's fucking cracked. **_And, whatever, that's _usually _fine because Three can just go give it to Ammo Knights and Sheldon'll have it fixed by next week, but Three is stressed _now, _dammit, and if Four sees Three using the stupid, basic fucking _Splat Roller_ she'd tease Three about it and then she'd get arrested for _murder._

Three doesn't know why murder is illegal. Spawnpoints exist in the city, and, even if they didn't, a world without Four doesn't sound so bad. At least Three wouldn't have to hear that fucking shrill, nasally voice everywhere she went.

So. Yeah. Three has to go get her roller fixed and make up excuses as to why she's not turfing for the next week or so. Because _fuck you, __**Four.**_

Maybe Three is antagonizing Four a bit too much. Four's not that bad, for _Four, _even if she teases Three a lot over _fucking __**everything **_and has bad opinions on most things.

Like her fucking pizza toppings. She eats _pineapple, _but she gives Three shit for liking shrimp on hers? Pineapple is a fucking _tropical fruit, _and nothing tropical or fruit should be on a fucking _pizza. _"It's _good, _Three!" she'd insist, and in the same breath, give Three shit for some of the meals she's made before. Ketchup in ramen isn't even that _bad. _Three would rather eat _literal shit _than pineapple on pizza.

Four just doesn't have _standards._

But… Ugh, Three's still more comfortable around Four. She might even call Four her _friend, _but that sounds really gross and mushy and feeling-y. Three refers to her as an acquaintance with benefits, which is a title Four hates because "It sounds like we're fucking, just say friends" but she doesn't _get _it.

Three thinks she has relationships on a level slightly below the _acquaintanceship _between her and Four with all the other Squidbeak Splatoon agents.

All the others, and then Agent 8 showed up.

Agent 8, or "Just Eight, please," is fucking **weird.** And not because she's an octoling and makes the occasional social blunder, but… Well, partially because of the social blunder thing, but she just makes Three feel fucking _weird._

Like, floaty, happy, anxious, I'm-going-into-anaphylactic-shock kind of weird.

_And Three doesn't know WHY!_

Three's supposed to be cool and stoic and Agent-_fucking-_3\. And then, when she's around Eight, she _stops _being cool and stoic. Or, as Four put it, "An emotionally-conflicted moron that ca-" but Three punched her in the gut before she finished her sentence.

And Three doesn't want to figure out _why, _she just wants to figure out how to make herself _not _like that. Because it's fucking _dumb _and _stupid, _fuck you.

So. That roller, huh? Yeah.

Three turns her phone on to go check Ammo Knight's hours, just to be sure. They closed in ten minutes, so she'd have to go tomorrow. The fee for a new handle was 10,000 C, but because Three used the Hero Roller _Replica, _there was another 5,000 C added to it because it's a "custom design" or some bullshit like that.

Which is _stupid, _by the way.

Her phone buzzes in her hand as she gets a text from Four.

**Four, 5:50 PM: **Hey, are you in the Square?

**You, 5:50 PM: **Yea I just finished a match but I'm done for the day

**Four, 5:51 PM: **Great! You wanna go get something to eat? There's a pizza place that's supposed to be pretty good

**You, 5:51 PM: **It can't be that good if you want to eat there

**Four, 5:51 PM: **Are you trying to judge my food choices? You put RELISH on NACHOS

**You, 5:51 PM: **Uh yea its because its good

**Four, 5:51 PM: **No? It ISN'T?

**You, 5:52 PM: **You put pineapple on pizza like some kind of fucking animal

**You, 5:52 PM: **Pineapple and tofu

**You, 5:52 PM: **Just who do you think you are

**Four, 5:52 PM: **It's not that BAD 3! You're just grumpy because I have working tastebuds

**You, 5:52 PM: **Oh YOU have working tastebuds? Ok

**Four, 5:52 PM: **:( Whatever! Anyways

**Four, 5:52 PM: **Are you going? We can meet you outside Deca

**You, 5:53 PM: **We? Who's we

**Four, 5:53 PM: **Me and 8

Three's face heats up and she gets a surge of butterflies when she reads that for some goddamn reason. She didn't… Ugh. Three _likes _hanging out with Eight, which is more than she can say about most people. Except Three also _hates _hanging out with Eight. Because of the anaphylactic shock feelings. The ones that she has right now. And she still doesn't know _why _but FUCK IT, she'll say yes.

**You, 5:54 PM: **Sure

**Four, 5:54 PM: **Great! Can't wait to deal with thirty minutes of you being an emotionally constipated moron

**You, 5:54 PM: **Why do you say that?

Three slings her pretty fucked roller over her shoulder. She'd have to stop by her car and drop it off there.

**Four, 5:54 PM: **Nevermind

**Four, 5:54 PM: **We don't have time to get into all of that

**You, 5:54 PM: **? Ok

**You, 5:54 PM: **I have to stop by my car. Roller

**Four, 5:54 PM: **Sure, sure

**Four, 5:54 PM: **We'll be here!

* * *

Three slams the car door shut and sighs. Briefly, she checks her reflection in the side-view mirror and dryly laughs. She shouldn't be so _worried _over fucking PIZZA. With _Four, _of all people. The Queen of Bad Opinions and Always Being Wrong. The person who thinks Wetallica is a bad band. The person who willingly eats cucumbers because they're _"__healthy" _and _"__I want to live to twenty-five, __Three."_

And Eight. Just Eight. Just Agent 8. Three doesn't talk to Eight much because she doesn't like feeling like a moron. Three's not even sure they've had a proper conversation in a month, because that was when Three started feeling like she was going to die of cardiac arrest whenever she was around Eight, and that was weird and not fun and it's STILL weird and not fun.

They'd text from time-to-time, though, but it was never about anything super important.

**You, 6:01 PM: **Hey 8

**Eight, 6:01 PM: **Three! Hi

**You, 6:01 PM: **What's up

**Eight, 6:01 PM: **We're waiting by Deca Tower, Four said you had to put your weapon away

**You, 6:02 PM: **Yeah I'm on my way back

**You, 6:02 PM: **Have you had pizza before?

**Eight, 6:02 PM: **Four took me for some last week! There was a lot to choose from but I ate pretty much everything

**You, 6:02 PM: **Do you have a favorite topping?

**Eight, 6:02 PM: **Ooooh IDK! They're all really good, except for tofu. IDK how Four eats that, it's so squishy and sad.

**Eight, 6:02 PM: **Don't be mad but I think pineapple is kinda good

**You, 6:02 PM: **Why would I be mad? We all have different tastes

**Eight, 6:02 PM: **Four says you threatened her with murder the last time you talked about pizza toppings, so…

**You, 6:03 PM: **Oh that? Yea I was just joking lol

Three has never used 'lol' before in her _life. _

She spends the rest of her walk back being stupid and anxious. Which she _shouldn't _be, but she is.

**You, 6:05 PM: **I'm at Deca where are you guys?

**Eight, 6:05 PM: **Is that you there?

Three looks around. Fucking Deca Tower's always crowded as shit. How people dealt with this all the time is _beyond _her. Cod, working at Deca must be a hell unlike any other. Customer service already sucked major ass, but having to deal with cocky teenagers all day… She shudders at the thought.

"Oi, Three!" That shrillness. That pretentious accent. That _volume._

Three turns around towards the voice with a sigh.

"Hey, Four."

Four waves at Three, pushing up her sunglasses with her other hand. She got her tentacles styled the other day, and they're in pigtails, crammed into a beret. Her jacket's either new or she's owned it for months and never wore it. It also looks way too _warm_, but what does Three know? The pair of khakis that she's wearing aren't new, nor are they exceptionally old, but Four stained them with various paints the other week "for the aesthetic," whatever the hell that means. She's also wearing the exact same pair of Shark Moccasins that she always wears, and they're a bit worn but also ridiculously clean. Besides the fact that she looks like she's going to praise modern art for two hours, she doesn't look too bad.

Beside her is Eight, who waves with much more gusto than Four. Three immediately feels all of her ink rush to her face, because Eight normally wore the most eye-burning and patchwork clothes that she could find. They were usually baggy and comfortable, if not tacky.

And apparently today isn't _normal._

Eight is, for some fucking reason, wearing some of the Off the Hook sponsored gear. Specifically the Marinated Top that Three saw ads for everywhere. With that, Eight wears a pair of black leggings that a pair of Punk Whites and a Takoroka Visor, her ponytail popping out the top of it. And exactly none of those are clothes Three's seen Eight wear before.

"Three! It's good to see you!" She smiles brightly, and it then fades when Three doesn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"You. I, um. Hey." Three has to tear her eyes away from Eight's shirt to meet her gaze. "Yeah, I'm. I'm fine. You just, uh, look different."

"Like, um, in a bad way..?" Eight bites her lip. "I, um, didn't pi-"

"NO," Three says a little too quickly. "It. You look good. Not that you, uh. Don't. Normally. Like. It's. It's new. Is all. Yeah. I'm. I'm gonna shut up now."

Eight looks relieved and Three thinks she catches Four mumble "I told you so" beneath her breath.

"So!" Four punctuates it with a clap. "Are you all ready?"

Eight nods.

"Yeah, sure," Three mumbles, feeling a bit underdressed. This morning, she threw on a somewhat-clean shirt, a hoodie that's probably clean-ish, some shorts, a beat-up pair of flip-flops, and then whatever hat she found lying around first. So, no, her clothes don't even _match _but at least they have pockets, which is where she shoves her hands as she walks. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Sand Dollar Pizzeria. It's been open for a few months, but I haven't gone yet. If two of us can agree on pizza toppings, we might get a couple's discount."

"You're so fucking cheap." Three rolls her eyes. "Aren't you, like, a professional turfer or something? I don't think money's a huge worry for you."

A sea-green blush forms on her face. "I… Well, I spend most of my money on clothes."

"I mean, um, I could give you some money for that?" Eight offers. "Pearl gives me money every month, but it's always way too much. I don't think she understands how much 100,000 C is…"

"She gives you _what,_" Three deadpans. Fucking rich people.

"Yeah, she said it's a small allowance. But I don't have anything to spend it on…" Eight laughs a bit to herself. "I can buy lunch, if you want? Or, um, is it dinner..?"

"Dinner, probably." 6:00 PM (or 6:30 to 7:00, whenever they get there and eat) is pretty early for Three, but it's way too late to be lunch. Then again, Three usually ate around 11:00 PM (if at all) and then passed out at 2:00 in the morning. Or whenever her eyes physically couldn't keep themselves open anymore, and she'd usually just collapse on the couch, so her bed was rarely used. "And, uh, you don't have to buy. If you. Don't want to."

"No, it's fine!" Eight gives Three a smile. Which. She. Guh. "I'd like to buy it! We're friends, after all, right?"

"Yeah. We, uh. We are." Three feels _warm _and _stupid _is it possible for her head to explode from the amount of ink that's in it right now because she think it might be possible and haha there's only one way to find out! "Um. Friends, that is. Yeah."

Four rolls her eyes. "Oh, so you can call _Eight _a friend, but not me? Four, your best friend that you've known since the second grade? I'm _offended, _Three."

"Die mad about it."

"Wow, okay," she scoffs.

A few pigeons land on a nearby bike rack. Eight makes a soft happy noise (oof) and pulls out her phone to take a picture of them.

While she's distracted, Four elbows Three in the arm.

"What?" she mumbles.

There's a certain look in Four's orange eyes. It's a look that Three is very familiar with. The fucking _matchmaker _look.

"You gotta ask her out."

_What?_

"Excuse me?" Three says, a little more than shocked. "I don't- I don't even-"

"Oh, don't _lie _to me," Four snaps. "Come _on. _I see how you look at her. And you look like a shitty cheese stick, with how orange your face is." Three blushes a little more. "See?"

Well. It'd make sense that those anaphylactic shock feelings are vaguely romantic but there's no reason for Eight to return them. She got to the surface two months ago, or something like that. Eight's still adjusting to being on the surface, right? Three glances over at Eight, currently fawning over the pigeons. Yep, still adjusting.

"I- Okay, first of all, my ink is _golden, _not _orange. _And… Fuck, _maybe _I kind of like her, but-"

"Don't 'but' me, Three. She was freaking out earlier because she was worried you weren't going to like her outfit." … Was she? That's not very Eight-ish.

"She could just look up to me?"

"Don't be a narcissist, Three. Look at her." Three looks over at Eight again. Yeah, still gushing over birds. Four waves her hands in the shape of a rainbow, arms hovering a bit above Three's shoulders. "Do you see her? Does that look like someone who _doesn't_ want to fuck you?"

"DON'T _SAY _THAT," Three yells.

Eight looks away from the birds because they flew away. Because Three was loud. Because fuck you, Four.

They make eye contact. Three feels her soul shrivel up and die.

"Are you okay?" Eight asks after a few moments of silence.

"One day I am going to kill Four," Three states calmly, "And it will be a joyous day. The heavens will open up and sing. Tatzelwurm herself will rise from the oceans and congratulate me. 'Thank you so much, Three. You finally removed that shitstain.' She will be so happy that I will be gifted immortality, and I will join the Pantheon of the Gods. All hail Agent 3, goddess of fucking killing Agent 4. Shrines will be made in my honor. I'll even become the prime minister for my contributions."

"Um… Okay." Eight gives Four a look. Three doesn't know what the look means, but she can guess. She rejoins the two, quickly looking over her pigeon pictures, then turns her phone off.

"So... Are you guys ready?" Four checks her phone for the time. "It's 6:10, I wanna get there before 7:00."

"Yeah," Three mumbles while Eight nods enthusiastically.

As they start walking, Three thinks she catches Eight staring at her, but Eight looks away before she can really be sure. But, unless Three's imagining it, Eight's blushing a little..?

Ugh.

Feelings are _dumb._


	2. 1-2 Eight's face meets a table

Eight's excited! For pizza! Eight really likes pizza. She can't think of a food that she doesn't like! Well. Maybe tofu, because it almost tastes like the nutrition blocks she had in the Domes, but other than that, she can't think of a bad food! … Well. There's also pigeon, but it's less of a "This tastes bad!" and more of a "They're really cute and eating them makes me feel like a bad person!", which is more or less the same thing. Eight might prefer tofu to pigeon, actually.

Eight's also a little super nervous. Because Three is there. She doesn't hate Three! She's just. Scared Three hates her.

That fear's been there for a while, but the other day she asked Pearl and Marina about Three, because Pearl and Marina have the answers to Everything Ever! and their answer was, like, super stupid! Which is kind of a mean thing to say, but it's true.

"Three always acts really weird whenever she's around. Like, she stammers a lot and I don't know if she's sick or dying or something? And maybe I'm just being stupid but she, like, avoids me more and more and I don't know if I did something wrong, and- Why are you laughing?" she asked.

"Eight," Pearl started after cackling like a fool, "She likes you."

"Why would she be avoiding me if she likes me?"

"Well," Marina said with a sigh, "She's Three."

And that reasoning would make sense if it wasn't the stupidest reasoning ever! Because, you know, Three was cool and Eight liked being around Three because Three was cool and Eight was worried because what if she did something and Three was just too nice to say something about it?

"Come on, Eight," Pearl interrupted her train of thought that was also being said out loud at the same time, "She's Three. She'd say something."

And Eight let out a quiet sigh because Three is stupid and inklings are stupid and the surface is stupid and feelings are stupid as well. Take that.

"Fine. Okay." Surface Rule #1: Accept everything someone tells you. "But... Why would liking someone make you act weird?"

Marina pursed her lips and gave Eight the Romance Talk. And the Romance Talk was stupid and weird and DUMB and Eight didn't really get it and she still doesn't really get it but everyone else seemed to get it so Eight just pretended to get it as well.

"So, how do you feel about Three?" she asked after the Talk.

Eight wanted to slam her face into the table. She did not.

"I don't know," she mumbled quietly.

"Think about it, then."

So Eight's been thinking about it. She learned a decent amount about inkling romance, and then the stupid inkling courting rituals, and she came to the conclusion that they are all Dumb and Stupid but they also Kind Of Make Sense. And then she thought about Three and then she thought about how she feels about Three, and at 3:00 in the morning five days ago she came to the unfortunate realization that the stupid feelings towards Three are kind of romantic.

And because of that, the past five days have been spent panicking because Three won't return them because Three is cool. Waaaaay too cool for Eight!

Four talked pretty much the entire time they walked. Eight didn't mind, because she likes the sound of Four's voice. Three had a comment here or there, but Eight was quiet for most of it. Because she was thinking... And she tried to stop thinking... , but Eight couldn't force brain death no matter how much she wanted it, so she just kept thinking…

"Hey, Eight." Oh! A voice. Eight finally stops thinking… and instead looks at the person who spoke. Four! Hi, Four. Four laughs. "We're here."

"Oh!" Food! Eight likes food. Food is good. When spelled, they're pretty much the same word. Fgood. Gfood. (G/F)ood. See? Eight's reinventing the modern Inkling language.

The door to Sand Dollar has a black rim and handle, with a glass pane in the middle. On it are some numbers printed on it in white text. Seeing that they're all times, Eight's going to make an educated guess and say that they're the hours. Three walks ahead of them and holds the door open for them.

"After you," she mumbles, looking down at the floor.

"Thanks." Four walks inside. Eight follows her, but not without thanking Three. Because that's, like, rude and Eight isn't rude! Pfft, in the Domes, Eight was known as the Least Rude Octarian EVER! So… Take that!

The inside of Sand Dollar is a bit darker than everything outside, which is nice. Eight's kind of very not used to the sun, but she really likes it! Even if it's suuuuuper bright, like, sheesh! Calm down a little! Octarians all collectively evolved to have night vision, because the underground doesn't always have light. And, because of that, the light hurts her eyes after a bit! So. Yeah. She's happy to be here where it's dim-ish.

It's also kind of cold. Which normally isn't a bad thing, but Eight's shirt doesn't cover as much as a regular shirt. She used to wear shirts like these all the time, but then she got used to surface clothes because the clothes she was used to, would, as some old anemone said, "Attract the wrong kind of attention." Eight asked Marina what that meant. She shook her head and sighed. "She's trying to tell you that you look like a slut. Which you don't, by the way? Old people are stupid." Which was RUDE! But. Yeah. Eight stopped wearing clothes like that. So Eight kind of forgot what it's like to have, like, her entire midriff out. She's not oblivious to the looks she's been getting, but… They don't seem all that bad.

… Especially not the one Three gave her earlier.

But.

Ahem.

Anyways.

There's a small stand… Podium… Wait-y thingy… WHATEVER! Inkling's not even Eight's first language, so YEAH! Eat that! But, um, yep, behind the thing is a pretty tired-looking inkling in a kinda boring uniform (all uniforms are boring, change Eight's mind) and she drums her fingers against it. She looks up when the three walk in, and puts on a fake smile.

"Welcome to Sand Dollar! How many?" Eight isn't a stranger to fake voices, but heck. She might have cringed a little when she heard it, not like she'll tell anyone.

"Three, please," Four responds in an equally fake voice.

"Okay!" The hostess grabs three menus. "Would you like a booth or a table?"

"Booth, thank you." AH Four's voice is so FAKE and her smile is so FAKE and it's bad .

"Alright, follow me, please!" She leads them to a booth. Four sits down first and sets her bag next to her, then spreads her legs so she'd take up as much room as cephalopodly possible.

Jerk.

Eight sits on the other side of the table with a nice view of the door. And Three, who tried to discreetly flip Four off, sits down beside her.

"Jacob will be your server tonight, please enjoy your meal!" With another super fake smile, she's off.

Eight can see Four adjust in her seat. When she's not taking up 10,000 units of available space on a booth, she looks nice. Her jacket also looks… Comfy. She offered to buy Eight a jacket like that, but Eight didn't want to impose because it was like 20,000 C and that's way too much for a jacket . Though, right now, she... Wishes she had one. It's cold in here.

"Are you cold?" Three asks, reading her mind. "Here." She reaches towards the base of her hoodie and starts to take it off.

"No, no, it's fine. Three, you really don't-"

"Don't lie to me, Eight," she mutters with an eye roll. Taking it off, she pulls one of the sleeves out. "You rubbed your arms four times in the past minute."

… Well, she's got her there.

Three ungraciously hands Eight the hoodie. Eight takes it, blushing, and puts it on.

"Sorry if it smells," she apologizes. "It was the cleanest one I could find."

Eight was going to ask what she meant, but then she notices. And… Yeah. Three's hoodie smells a little bit like sweat, a lot like ink, and there are small hints of weapon grease here and there… Despite all of that, it still manages to smell like Three. Really, it's not the worst thing she's smelled, and she tells Three that.

"... Thanks." Three's face is still a bit yellow, but not nearly as bad as before. She looks away from Eight and starts reading the menu.

Eight picks hers up from the table and starts looking through it. And heck , there's a lot to choose from! Eight's overwhelmed! … Well, she can pretty much get whatever, right? Since she's paying and all, and she's got enough money stockpiled that she's pretty okay with splurging a bit. But… Hm. Eight really likes surface food. So… She's okay with anything! Besides tofu, because pigeon isn't a pizza topping.

"This is a lot," she says quietly after rereading the menu for the fifth time.

"Yeah, I get that." Three rests her head on her palm. Beneath her hoodie, she wore a tank top. And… Now that her hoodie is no longer being worn, Eight can totally see Three wearing the tank top. She thinks it's called a wifebeater? Which is, like, a stupid name. Why would you call a shirt that? But… Ugh, still, even if the shirt has a stupid name, Three doesn't look bad in it. Eight can see her arms, which, yeah, that's obvious. But since Three turfs a lot and does agent work and carries around a heavy roller at all times, pretty much, she's, like, kinda muscular, not that Eight cares or anything, but, haha, like, you know, she's, strong, and Eight's still a little more muscly than Three, but Eight just spent 10,000 years in Kamabo and she still turfs sometimes, but, still, Three, is, yes?, is that weird, maybe, hey unrelated but it was cold in here not too long ago Eight's face feels kind of warm, haha, oh god, this is going to be where she dies,

"Eight?" THREE HI HELLO EIGHT WAS NOT STARING AT YOU OR YOUR ARMS BECAUSE THAT'S STUPID AND CREEPY "Fuck, are you okay?"

Eight tries to speak and say words like a normal cephalopod... But she doesn't. She just says a few incoherent syllables and then sighs and hangs her head, looking down at the booth seat.

Three presses the back of her hand against Eight's forehead. Which, um, yeah, things? Feeling things with the back of your hand is, um, good, because if it electrocutes you your hand will instinctively pull away instead of the front which will clamp down on it and you'll die, and no, Eight isn't changing the subject, shut up! Oh and if you're wondering Eight doesn't let out a pathetic squeaky sputtery noise because that's stupid and another cool fact about Eight is that she was voted the Least Stupid Octarian EVER as well so yeah take that.

"You feel warm…" Eight is dead. She died. Rest in peace, Eight Houzuki. Pearl and Marina and Four and possibly Three will all weep and sob at her funeral. "Poor Eight," they'll say, "She died of stupidity." "... Are you sick?"

"No, it's, um, you…uuuur shirt? Like, it, uh, color? Mhm. You know how, uh, white clothes..?" You know the last chunk of internal monologue that just passed? Repeat it. Repeat all of it. Because Eight, she, ah, shit, there's no recovering from this.

Three's hand tenses against Eight's forehead and she quickly retracts it.

"I, um." Eight looks up from the seat and over at Three. Her face is currently some shade of yellowy-orange. It reminds her of marigolds, which, it's, uhhhhhhh notabadcolor NOT THAT EIGHT CARES butshedoesalotactually and um totally completely 100% definitely unrelated but her hearts are all racing and she thinks she might die of a heart attack. "You… Sorry?" Three refuses to meet her gaze. And, well… Neither does Eight. Not at first, at least.

Silence settles over the table as Three looks up from the seat to meet Eight's eyes. Eight feels too scared to move, too scared to speak… Or, no, not even scared. She just… She… Eight doesn't know how she feels, but she…

Gods, Three… Her eyes are stunning. One is a dark crimson, the other - her right eye - is a brilliant cyan, the pupil white. The skin around it isn't stained anymore, the unnatural color to her eye being the only remnant of the hijacking.

Three moves to set her hand back down onto the seat, but she lays it on Eight's hand instead. Eight tenses a bit, and Three breaks eye contact as she yanks her hand away.

"Uh, s-sorry, I…"

"No, no, it's, um… It's fine…"

Four sighs heavily and they're both reminded of her presence.

"My god," she whispers, "Just get a room."

A room? Why would they- oh my god no Four you didn't she, Eight would, what?, that, she, oh my god, oh my, god, you, she, **fuck **, oh my god,

"Four," Three says quietly in a stern voice, "Please, for the love of god, shut the fuck up."

Four opens her mouth to speak.

"No." Three cuts her off before she even begins. "You... Know you're making her uncomfortable, right?"

She snickers.

"Am I? Dunno, I think she's kinda into it, aren't ya, Eight?"

"What? Uh, yeah, wai- NO, I-" WHAT EIGHT WOULD, SHE, HAH, WHY WOULD EIGHT EVER BE, LIKE, INTO STUFF, STUFF THAT IS, LIKE, THAT?, YEAH, SHE, UM, MIND, GUTTER, OUT OF THERE, EIGHT IS, EIGHT, THIS FUCKING SUCKS and she launches her face into the table because SCREW YOU, FOUR. Quietly, she mumbles, "Four, I hate you. So much."

Four just cackles.

**Jerk.**

"Hi, um…" A person. A waiter? ... Yes. F… Food. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No," Eight says, voice muffled by the table. Slowly, she sits up. Her forehead might be bruised… Not that she cares much.

"... Right." He's an inkling, wearing the same dumb uniform, and he clears his throat. "I'm Jacob, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I start you off with to drink?"

"I'd like a Sprite, please," Four says with a smile.

"Lemonade," Three mumbles, glaring. "It's called lemonade. "

"Shut up and order, loser." Four's tone indicates that this is a debate that they've had many times before. Which is… Stupid. Like, there's lemonade, and then there's lemonade, right? That's how Eight understands it.

Three rolls her eyes. "Fine, fine. Could I get a Coke? Thanks."

"And for you, miss?" Ah geez oh man, Eight hates ordering food and drinks and stuff. Because there's always so much stuff. And she panics.

"Um, an ice water, please?" AH GEEZ OH MAN EIGHT DIDN'T EVEN WANT THAT BUT SHE'S COMMITTED NOW. "Thank you!"

"Aaaaalrighty then." Jacob writes something down on his notepad. "Have you decided what you wanted to eat yet? Or should I ask when I come back with your drinks?"

"Yeah, we're still figuring this out." Three gives him a forced smile that almost looks natural. Jacob returns it and then leaves.

"So…" Four's voice trails off as she drums her fingers on the table. "What exactly do you all want on it?"

"I am not fucking eating pineapple," Three states. "Tofu? Tofu, I can almost understand, but no fucking fruit should be on a goddamn pizza."

"But tomatoes are a fruit, and they're on pizza." Four looks smug. "Do you eat naked pizza, Three?"

"You know what I mean," she snaps.

"No," she says with an increasingly smug grin, "I don't."

"Like… Fucking, real fruit. That shit's not allowed on pizza."

What?

"Real… Fruit?" Eight repeats. "Isn't every fruit a kind of, um… Real fruit?"

"Tomatoes are basically vegetables," Three says in a matter-of-fact voice. "Trust me."

… Huh?

"She's just too much of a whiny bitch to eat pineapple," Four whispers at a normal volume. "She's too weak."

"I am not a whiny bitch, excuse you. I just have standards, you blithering ass sandwich." Ooh, that's a new one! Eight likes hearing the, um…Creative insults that Three comes up with. Currently, her favourite has to be "You sad fucking barfnugget," if only because of the delivery. How does Three even say all that with a straight face? Just thinking about it makes Eight laugh a little!

"Standards my ass. You just can't stomach it. And if I don't have standards, what the fuck do you have? You listen to fucking Wetallica. Wetallica! AND I saw you dump relish on nachos."

"Okay, first of all, fuck you, Wetallica has contributed more to the inkling race than anything you've done, secondly, shut the fuck up, you moronic fuck paste." … Oh. This is, um, accelerating.

Four presses her hand to her hearts and pulls her glasses down a bit as she gawks.

"Excuse you?" she asks.

"You fucking heard me," Three snarls.

Four glares at Three. Three glares back. Eight is scared to see where this is going.

After a few tense seconds, Four bursts out laughing and Three softly snickers.

"You're still disgusting, you dork," Four mumbles.

"I never denied it."

"... What?" Is this normal? Eight thinks this is too weird to be normal. Why would you be friends with someone and bond over insulting each other? Isn't the point of friendship, like, the exact opposite of being mean to each other? "Are you guys okay..?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Three tells her, and Eight uses her tried-and-true skill of Accepting Everything. "Trust me."

"But- You…" Eight makes a vague gesture of frustration. "You know what? Fine. You're both so weird. "

Three hums softly while Four shrugs a little.

"Sooo… We never answered the question, whaddya guys want on it?" Four drums her fingers on the table, looking at the menu. "We could get an extra large and split the toppings on it."

"Sure." Three looks over at Eight. "You're cool with that, right?"

"Mhm." Eight nods. "I'll eat anything except for tofu, so get whatever."

"You sure?"

"Yep, positive. Um… My standards are kind of at nutrition blocks, so…" Three purses her lips.

"I forgot you grew up in a sad fucking hole," she says with an eye roll. "Yeah, okay, sure."

"It wasn't a sad fucking hole," Eight mumbles, a tad defensive. Sure, it might have been a hole, but it… It could be worse. Valley life was infinitely better than the Ravine. The Ravine is a sad fucking hole.

She watches Three do a visible double-take while Four starts laughing.

"... What?" she asks, confused. "Did… Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it-" Three stops to collect her thoughts. "You…"

"I've literally never heard you say hell, let alone fuck," Four explains for her. "So it's kinda funny."

"Um, sorry, then..?" Eight wouldn't say she's as bad as, like, Three, but she's… Y'know. A legal adult. She tends to curse more in Octarian, though. Still, is… Is it that weird?

"Nah, it's fine. Just…" Three snickers to herself. "You never struck me as the type."

It is at this exact moment when Eight remembers her friends are two monolingual idiots.

"I… See." Eight coughs into her hand. The situation remains awkward. Oops. "So, um. Yeah. Just… Get whatever you'd like that isn't tofu."

"Half pineapple, half… Whatever Three gets?" Four suggests.

Three wrinkles her nose and nods.

"Yeah," she says with a sigh, "Sure."

"Great!" Four punctuates it with a clap. "So… What's the grossest pizza topping you can think of?"

"Orange," Three says after a moment. "Infinitely worse than pineapple."

"That doesn't sound awful?" It's not the worst thing Eight's seen.

Four looks at her with a look of mock-seriousness… Because Four probably isn't capable of non-mock-seriousness.

"It what?"

Eight laughs nervously. "Yeah… You should see Pearl's pizzas." She shudders. "Mayo instead of tomato sauce, chili, potatoes, tofu, banana…"

Four gags. Three looks wildly uncomfortable.

"Wow," is the word that break the silence that settles over them. "I think I have an actual reason to kill Pearl now."

"Normally I try to stop you from killing people," Four says quietly, "But I think this is the one exception."

"... Please don't kill my mom."

"I can't promise anything," Three mutters.

"She deserves it," Four adds.

"At least she doesn't put relish on nachos."

"First of all, " Three starts after taking a deep breath, "Relish on nachos isn't that fucking bad. It adds flavour, you fucking degenerate, and no one seems to fucking understand that. FURTHERMORE, ketchup ramen isn't that bad either. And it's not that fucking awful with pickles and I know for a fact you haven't tried it." She takes another deep breath and starts shaking her leg beneath the table.

Four gags again.

"You're cute when you're mad," Eight mumbles without thinking.

Four sighs.

Three freezes.

Eight suppresses the urge to slam her face into the table with lethal force.

There are times when Eight wonders if she should have let Tartar destroy Inkopolis, because if it was destroyed, situations like these wouldn't occur.

But it's fine! Eight's never been better. Neeeeever ever ever!

"You… Uh, really think that?" Three asks.

Sheepishly, Eight nods. "I, um… I guess so."

"Three." Four taps her hand against the table twice to get her attention. "You realize you're some variation of angry, like, 75% of the time, right?"

Three's face deepens in hue. Eight's pretty sure her face does the same thing.

"I, you, ummm, Four?" How does Eight word this? "Youuu…"

"Yes, Eight?"

"Iiiiiiii hate you! Thanks so much."

There we go.

Four snorts. "Yeah, you're not the only one."

"... Are you all ready now?" No, Eight doesn't jump like twenty-million feet into the air in surprise because that's stupid and Eight isn't stupid, Eight is intelligent and smart.

Four nods.

"Yeah, can we get an extra large pizza, half pineapple half…" She looks over at Three.

"Uh. Shrimp," she stammers out.

"Half shrimp," Four finishes, infinitely more articulate than Three. "That's all, thanks."

Jacob nods. "Okay, I'll go put that in for you."

* * *

They talk a bit more about this and that and everything in between. By the time the pizza arrives, they're all fairly hungry, and it doesn't last pretty long. Eight pays, as promised, and they leave around 8:00 PM.

"So, wha-" Three's cut off by her phone ringing and she groans with a dramatic eye roll. … Well, it's normal for Three, but, like, it's dramatic for everyone else? Checking it, she sighs. "Hold on… Yeah, hi Jarrett. I'm fine, thanks for asking…" She walks a little bit away from Four and Eight and leans against the side of Sand Dollar as she talks.

"... Well." Eight looks over at Four. "While she's doing that, I got a question for you."

Eight does not know what the question is, but she's a little scared. She's seen that look in Four's eyes once or twice before, but she never pinpointed what it actually is… Besides a crazed, maniacal, "I'm an evil mastermind" look, but… Four wouldn't be a very threatening villain.

"Hm? Go ahead," Eight replies anyways.

"So…" Four lowers her voice. Spooky. "We aaaall know you're, like, hella into Three, right?"

Eight feels her face heat up.

"I, um…" Well, there's no denying it… Though she wouldn't really word it like that. "I… I guess so…"

Four nods a little. "Right. And literally everyone is aware of that. Like, literally everyone who isn't Three. Fucking moron." Eight lets out a laugh that sounds like a giggle but isn't a giggle because giggling is for losers, okay? "Alright, so, this is going to sound crazy, but Three is also, like,super into you. Don't give me that look, Eight."

"How do you kn-"

"Eight. Come on." Eight sighs quietly. "For starters, Three claims to be super stoic and cool and shit but she's just emotionally constipated. She's really easy to read once you get to know her. And, like, even if I didn't know her for twelve years… It's obvious. Like, really, really obvious. Trust me."

"Fine." She steals a quick glance at Three, and then looks back at Four. "So… Um, what… What do I do?"

"Ask her out." **Ah. **"We all fucking know she's too stupid to do it herself."

"... What makes you think I'll do any better? Like, I… You know I still don't really, um… Get all of the inkling courting rituals, right?"

"Eight." Four's tone is serious. It's the most serious she's ever been. "It is physically impossible to be worse than Three in this regard. One time in high school she made out with this chick and then had the nerve to ask me if I thought she liked her back." … What.

"Um, it was high school, though, wasn't it? She's… Changed, probably?"

Four laughs dryly. "No. You know how she's, like, a major workaholic? She invests all her time into either working or turfing, so there's absolutely no time for mushy romance shit. I assure you, there's literally no one as stupid as her."

"... Ah." Eight shifts awkwardly. "Um… Okay. I… I'll ask her sometime, maybe…"

"No." Eight blinks. "No, you will."

"... Okay."

Eight hears footsteps. Looking over, she sees a somewhat disgruntled Three walking towards them.

"My boss called, said I'm off tomorrow. He could've fucking texted me, but noooo. " Three rolls her eyes. "Fuck you, Jarrett."

"I, um, that… Congrats?" Eight wishes she could speak right. Because that would be cool. "Um, d-do… Do you want to do something tomorrow, or..?"

Three shrugs. "Yeah, sure."

Four shakes her head 'no.' "I can't, sorry. I have practice tomorrow."

Eight was going to point out the fact that tomorrow is a Wednesday, and Four has practice on Tuesdays and Thursday, but then she understands what Four's hinting at and her face somehow heats up more.

"I, um… Thank- Err, that… That's fine. Have, um, fun, at practice, Four."

Three narrows her eyes.

"Eight, did Four say anything to you..?"

"WHAT NO FOUR WOULD NEVER, HAHA, ANYWAYS, ARE WE GOING, OR, YEAH?"

"You're such a shitty liar," she mutters beneath her breath. "Whatever."

"Oh, actually, this reminds me…" Four checks her phone. Eight can the screen from where she is. She doesn't have any new notifications. "I walked here, and Pearl dropped Eight off… I don't know where she lives, though. Can you, like, drop her off?"

"What? No, no, it's fine, I can just call Pearl-"

"I'll take you, it's cool."

"Thanks so much, Three." Eight watches her face flush deep marigold.

"It's nothing," she mutters, eyes darting to the ground.

And if Eight grabs Three's hand while they walk?

… Well, that's her secret to keep.


	3. 1-3 Three smells somewhat okay for once

"So, uh… What kinda music do you listen to?" Three asks. They'd been in the car for a bit now, driving in silence. Eight isn't facing her, instead looking out the window of the passenger's side. Three always felt kind of awkward in social situations, though… Usually for different reasons.

"It's nothing you listen to," she mumbles. "Play whatever, I don't mind."

"There's a difference between liking something and not minding it… C'mon, at least _tell _me."

"Well… Okay. Um, there's this group or producer or something called Nemo's Day at Wahoo World? I like some of their songs… And, um… There's this artist, I think, called… Hematolagnia? I found them the other day… I really like their stuff." Huh. "Sorry, sorry, I know-"

"Oh, I used to listen to Nemo's Day at Wahoo World. Like, in early high school, I think? Not so much anymore. They're not bad." She taps at the steering wheel. "Haven't heard of the other one, though. Is it breakcore?"

"Um… I think? I showed Marina a song and she said it was the musical equivalent of someone taking a shit on a keyboard." Three snorts. "What? I mean, I… Kind of agree."

"Oh, so you like shitty things?" Three laughs dryly and the words come out of her mouth before she can stop herself, "Shit, maybe that's why you think I'm cute."

Eight laughs. It sounds nervous and fake.

"I, um… Don't sell yourself short." Three feels her face warm a little more. "I, um, I just… I think you're, um… Cool. I guess. And I know that this, um, sounds, like… Stupid, but, it… I figured…" Eight sighs. "... I thought you'd, um… Like to hear that."

"... Thank you, Eight." Three has to try not to tear up, which is… Strange. Three… Three doesn't cry much, so… Not entirely sure why she's close to now. "That… I, uh. Think you're cool, too, if it counts."

Looking over briefly, Three can't see Eight's face, but she sees her smile in the reflection in the mirror.

Again, Eight laughs. It sounds more genuine. Soft, even.

"Well, um… If you don't mind me asking, what do _you _listen to?"

Three shrugs a little.

"Metal and classic rock, for the most part. A-Sea/D-Sea, Wetallica, Aquasmith, uh… Led Submarine. Y'know, like… Suburban dad bands." Eight makes a small noise of acknowledgement.

"Pearl listens to those bands sometimes. Sometimes I walk in on her singing along to it when she makes breakfast. It's a little funny."

"... Pearl cooks?" Pearl… Pearl never struck Three as the type to cook. At all. She always thought it was Marina that did everything, or maybe Pearl just hired a personal chef because she's rich and it seems like something she'd do.

"Yep." Three stops at a red light. It's dark out now, and the city lights illuminate the streets. "It's a hobby of hers. Apparently she had someone train her since she was young. I don't really understand it, but it makes her happy… So I can't really argue."

"Has she tried teaching you?"

"Once or twice… I've made more progress than Marina." Oh? "She's… I love her, but she really sucks at it. I think she tried to fry the milk once."

"... Why?" The light changes color and they start moving again. "And, uh, you live in Sunset Court, right?"

"Mhm." Three hears a soft _tap-tap-tap-tap _as Eight drums her claws against the inside of the car door. "And, um… Apparently she tried to make ice cream? I'm just as confused as you are."

"... Fucking hell, I thought Marina was, like, _normal._" She sighs. "Though, I mean… She _does _eat ketchup ice cream."

"... Don't you put ketchup on ramen? Are… Are you really in a position to say that?"

"It's… Not _that _bad," she protests. "You just haven't tried it."

"I… Don't think I want to," Eight admits. "Sorry."

Three laughs.

"Fine, fine…" Looking over at Eight, she notices the deep purple hue to her face. "... Are you okay?"

"I… Haven't heard you laugh before." Eight twirls one of the tassels on Three's hoodie. "It… It, um, you…"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. It… It's nice." Three feels her face warm some more. "You… Um, You're nice, too. In… Your own way."

"Thanks," she mutters. Tears threaten to prick her eyes. She clears her throat. "You too."

Eight lets out a quiet hum. Silence settles over them. It continues for the next ten minutes that the drive to Sunset Court takes.

"This it?" Three asks.

Eight nods. "Yeah."

She pulls into the driveway a little, parks the car, and unlocks the doors. Eight hesitates.

"Something wrong?"

"Um, I… I just wanted to ask if you, um…" Her voice trails off and Three sees her face flush purple. "I was wondering if you, um… If you would, um, like to… To go, um…" Is… Is Eight..? "... No, um… Fuck."

"... Take your time?" Three suggests, feeling her hearts start to race. Eight- No, there's no fucking way Eight's… God. Fuck.

"It. Um. Sorry. I was…" She sighs. "I… Just. Um… Thank you, for… Everything."

"Oh, it… It's, uh, nothing, really." She smiles at Eight. "I had fun."

"Me too," Eight replies quietly. "So… Um… Maybe we'll get together tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Three nods. "I'll text you, okay?"

"... Okay." Eight gives Three a small smile. "Um… See you. I guess. And, um… Thanks again."

Eight exits the car and Three watches her enter the house before leaving.

(She doesn't text her later. They don't talk for nine days.)

* * *

Three sighs quietly as she enters the café. Forcing a smile, she gives her coworker at the register a small wave.

"Hi, Justin," she greets, forcing fake enthusiasm into her voice.

"Oh, um… Hey, Summer." Justin smiles back. "How are you?"

"Good, good," she replies as she scoots behind him. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm good." The store is relatively empty. Good. Justin drums his fingers against the counter. "Hey, can you get the muffins from the back while you're there? Coffee's almost done."

"Course I can!"

Opening the door to the back of the shop, she hangs her bag on one of the hooks. The smell of baked goods hits her almost immediately.

Three fishes her glasses from her bag and quickly ties her tentacles up in a bun. Changing her ink to magenta, she decides she's about as ready as she's going to get.

Three scans the room for the tray of muffins. They're on the counter, probably cooled by now. Stopping by a sink to wash her hands, she takes a deep breath. Generally speaking, she… Likes her job. It's simple but not overly monotonous. It's not life-threatening. It's… Enjoyable, besides the bitchy vegans that come in at all hours of the day. Hell, even her coworkers aren't that bad. Maybe she'd never _tell _anyone, but she's decently happy with her job.

Once her hands are clean and dry, she gingerly feels the tray with the back of her hand. It's cool, or at least cool enough to hold, and she grabs them and pushes the door open.

"Are these them?" she asks, and Justin gives her a small nod.

"Thanks, Summer."

"You know me, just doing my job." It's a line she figured she would use at her second, actually important job, but it fits here, too. Setting the tray down on the glass display, she slides the display door open. By now, Three has the placement of the various desserts committed to memory, and she puts the batch of blueberry muffins on the far right, top shelf. "The floor's clean, right?"

"Clean from last night." Three rolls her eyes.

"Justin, did we have customers today?" He nods. "Are the tables clean, at least?"

"They're wiped," he tells her, and she accepts it. "You care a lot about this… Dunno why."

"I'm passionate about dumb things," Three offers. "Were there more things in the back that you want me to get?"

Justin looks over at a nearby egg timer with 'SCONES' written on it in black Sharpie. "Scones have about ten minutes left." He looks over at the next timer. "Lemon bars have five."

She nods in acknowledgement and slides the display door shut.

The door to the shop opens with a small jingle of bells.

"I'll take it," she mumbles, and Justin nods and goes to the back. Standing up, she gives the customer her warmest smile. "Hi, welcome to Oceanside!"

"Oh, hey…" The customer's voice trails off and she sighs after realizing. "Three, you fucking work here?"

Waiting by the register, she taps her foot against the ground to the tune of the song playing from the radio. "Yes, I do. What can I get you today, ma'am?"

"Don't _ever _call me ma'am again."

"Sincerest apologies, miss." Three's sure her grin is nothing short of shit-eating.

"... Summer." Four looks defeated. Three can't help but laugh - genuinely, this time. "C'mon."

"Fine, fine." She leans on the counter, growing a bit closer to Four. "So, what would you like?"

"Uh…" Her voice trails off as she skims the menu written on the wall behind Three in neat chalk writing. "An espresso and a brownie, please?"

"Got it. For here or to go?"

"To go." Three nods again. As she turns around to get a to-go cup from the cupboard, she realizes something. "Was this the place you were raving about for months?"

"Mmh, yeah, I guess so. I'm surprised I didn't run into you before." She pours the drink into the cup. "Unless… When did you start?"

"Seven months ago." Four makes a noise of vague confusion. "You saw me a few times, but we never talked."

"Really? How come you never told me?"

Three shrugs. "You never asked."

"I don't think I can come here again. It's too weird," she mumbles.

"Aw, you don't want a budding autumn romance with me? It'll be like those fucking online stories you read all the time," Three replies. "Do you want any cream or sugar?"

"Just a bit of both, thanks." She nods and adds it. "And… Summer, I love you, but you've thrown up on my shoes too many times for a fall romance." Four pauses. "... You used to read those too, y'know."

"Not _that _often," Three mumbles. "And it was only because the endings sucked. I also grew out of it."

"Oh, sure you did." Four rolls her eyes. "I've _looked _at your search history. Anyways… Speaking of budding romances, how are things with you and Eight? Did you hang out last Wednesday?"

Three can't stop herself from sighing. "No," she admits. "... We haven't talked since last Tuesday."

"Why not?" She sets the cup on the counter.

"Does it matter?" she snaps, sliding open the case and grabbing a brownie and a few napkins. "There's… You know she doesn't like me like that, right?"

"My cod, you really are an idiot," Four mutters. "I don't have time to get into it right now, but… Trust me, okay?"

Three rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever." She rings up Four's order. "That'll be 753 C."

Four gives a small nod as she pulls her card out of her bag. Three swipes it and hands it back.

"Thanks so much," she says in that same bullshit customer service voice. "Please come again, Sarah."

Four shudders. "I really, really hate that." Taking her food, she hesitates a bit before leaving. "You wanna go out for ice cream later today? I can get Eight to come."

"Mh… Sure." She tries to sound uninterested but she feels her face warm slightly. "My shift ends at 4:30."

Four nods. "Okay, that's fine. Any time should work."

"... Alright." The tip jar clunks as Four drops a handful of change in it. "See you, I guess."

"Okay!" Three doesn't like the smile Four gives her. "See you around."

(A fact that Three forgets: It's a Thursday. Four has practice.)

(She only remembers it later, and by then it's too late.)

* * *

Three finds herself fretting in her car, obsessing over her appearance in the mirror. Her tentacles are down and her ink is back to its normal golden hue. She left her contacts at home, so she's still wearing her glasses. As a matter of fact, she's pretty much just wearing her work uniform, minus the apron - a white dress shirt and some black pants and a pair of black shoes that aren't too worn. They're probably the cleanest clothes she owns, if only because she wears them almost exclusively for work. She thinks they smell like pastries and coffee, a far cry from the usual odor of sweat and ink that her clothes normally have.

She looks _presentable. _And presentable isn't good enough for Eight.

Fixing her hair one last time, she sighs and grabs her bag. It… Would have to do. She'd really hate to keep Eight waiting. Three steps out of her car.

Checking the time, she sees it's 5:00 PM. Good enough. Eight said she'd meet her between 5:00 and 5:30. And… Fucking Four had turfing practice. It's almost like she _planned _this.

Three checks the text again - 'Is The Wharf okay?' - as she walks down the street, stopping at the parlor. Sure enough, it's called _The Wharf, _and she pushes open the door and enters.

It smells sweet, which makes sense. An employee greets her and gives her a wave, and she returns it.

"I'm waiting for someone," she tells them, and they nod. Three takes a seat at a nearby table and shoots Eight a text.

**You, 5:03 PM:** I'm inside

**Eight, 5:04 PM: **Okay! I'll see you soon, we're like a minute away

**Eight, 5:04 PM: **I'm so excited to see you again! We've both been busy recently though

**You, 5:04 PM: **Same here and yeah works a bitch

**Eight, 5:04 PM: **Haven't things been quiet since Kamabo?

**Eight, 5:04 PM: **Unless you're working overtime which is dumb

**You, 5:04 PM: **No I work 2 jobs

**You, 5:04 PM: **NSS and a regular one

**Eight, 5:04 PM: **Oh, really? Where?

**You, 5:05 PM: **Can't disclose… Its a secret

**Eight, 5:05 PM: **:(

**Eight, 5:05 PM: **You're no fun

**Eight, 5:05 PM: **I'm here BTW!

Three looks up from her phone and through the glass door into the street. She sees Eight wave over her shoulder at Pearl in her car, and then she starts walking towards the entrance to The Wharf. Eight's outfit looks relatively plain, for Eight, all bright, vibrant hues that clashed and didn't belong together in the slightest, although her hoodie is a dark grey with only some yellow writing on it and _motherfucker that's Three's hoodie why is she wearing it still?_ She beams at Three with another wave, and Three feels her face heat up. A _lot. _Because she. Zuh. Damn you, Eight. Damn you and your dimples.

"Hi, Three!" she greets when she enters.

"Oh, uh, hey, Eight… What's up?" Eight takes a seat across from her.

"I'm good! It's nice to see you again," she tells her, placing her hands on one of Three's as she talks. Eight's hands are warm. Three's are not. "Have you been well?"

"Mh, I guess. Just working, mostly. You?"

"I haven't done much at all… I guess I've just been getting lazy." She laughs. "Are those clothes new? I haven't seen you wear them before. I really like those glasses on you, they make your eyes pop. They're probably comfier than contacts, right?"

"Nah, they're my work uniform. Or, uh, a set of clothes I wear to work? It fits dress code, I guess. Dunno if it's really a uniform. And, um, thanks? They… Are, if you're wondering."

Eight hums softly and nods. "Well, you look nice. You always do." Her words are accompanied with a small squeeze of Three's hand. Her face feels like it's on fire.

"Oh, um. Thanks. You, um. Too. Yeah."

She laughs.

Three thinks her hearts are about to burst.

"So… You didn't wait here too long, did you?" she asks. "There was traffic… I'd be here a while ago if there wasn't."

"Nah, I, uh. Didn't wait all that long, it's fine." She stands up. "So, you, uh… Food? Yes?"

Eight giggles. "Okay, you butt."

"I'm not a butt," she grumbles.

"Yeah you are," Eight protests. "You're a cute, stupid butt."

"Yeah? And you're a, uh… Toe." Three resists the urge to die. Toe was the first body part that came to mind… So she said it. Fucking hell, she's a moron.

"A toe?" Eight repeats. "... Gods, you're lucky you're cute."

There are many things to unpack here:

1\. AH FUCK SHIT MOTHERFUCKER EIGHT CALLED HER CUTE AGAIN, THIS IS UNFAIR, _EIGHT _IS THE CUTIE HERE NOT THAT THREE, LIKE, CARES, OR ANYTHING, BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T, AND SHE WON'T, AND SHE NEVER WILL, BECAUSE THREE IS _STOIC _AND _COOL _AND _ALOOF _AND _**FUCK YOU**_

2\. … She forgot number two.

3.

4.

5\. Oh, shit, she needs to say something

6.

7\. Seriously, she has to respond.

8.

9\. Error 333: Three cannot respond at this time.

10\. Dammit, she should really get better at handling complements.

11.

12\. HEY THREE

13\. BE THE ARTICULATE RESPONSE

"You. I, uh. Your _face. _Haha. Take that." Eight raises an eyebrow. "Good. Face. Nice, face? Yes. Face."

Eight softly smiles with a laugh. "You're such a butt."

"Do you. Uh." Three looks around wildly. "Food."

"... Let's just go before you hurt yourself." Eight stands up and pulls one of her hands away so she could walk while holding Three's own. Not that Three, like, _minds _or anything. Because she doesn't. Because she _ah oof pretty girl hand pretty girl called her __**cute **__ahahahahahaaaaaaaa_

The same employee gives them a smile as they walk up to the vast selection of ice cream and shit. Eight smiles back. Three is currently too stupid to do anything beyond Follow Eight and Not Die, which is slowly finding itself to be a lot harder than once imagined. Which is fine.

"Hey!" they say. "Just order whenever you're ready."

Eight spends a minute or two looking at the shit array. Three spends a minute or two trying to relearn speaking.

"So…" Their voice trails off. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been dating? You're really cute together, by the way."

Three is no longer relearning speaking.

"Umm…" Eight gives Three a glance. Three is too busy Error 333-ing to respond normally. "We, um… Aren't."

"... Oh, you're not?" Eight shakes her head 'no.' "Shit, my bad."

"It's fine," she mumbles, casting a worried glance at Three, who is currently so fucking golden that she looks like a pot of fucking Squraft macaroni and cheese. "So, um… Which flavour do you like the most?"

"Me or her?"

"Um… You. I'm just giving her a moment." Eight sighs quietly. "This happens a lot… She flusters easily." Yeah, okay, Three's going to ignore _that_ comment.

"Ah, alright…" They scan the selection of cold shit. "Weeell, it really depends on what mood I'm in. Today I'm feelin' the fruitier ones. And I mean the actual fruit ones. Not… Ketchup."

"Ket… Chup..?" Eight repeats the word quietly. "I… Didn't know people _sold _that."

"Mh, yeah. Caught on after that Splatfest. Dunno why, I've always been a mayo squid myself."

"Why… Would you willingly eat mayo?" Three asks, having finally relearned the act of speaking. "Mayo frosting is so much worse than ketchup ice cream."

"... People besides Pearl do that?" When Three nods, Eight grimaces. "That's disgusting."

"Yeah. We had, like, a mayo frosting promo for a week or two. Sometimes people still come in asking for it." She shudders. "Fucking awful."

"Are you _ever _going to tell me where you work?"

"Oceanside Café, like two blocks away." Eight furrows her brow.

"... Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"'Cause I'm an ass."

Eight rolls her eyes. "Oh, so you're an _ass _but not a butt?"

"... Be quiet."

The mayo heathen on the other side of the ice cream laughs to themself. "But yeah, if you're wondering, I normally go for fruit. Everything's always made in-store, so… I assure you, it's all good."

Eight nods. "Oh, okay. Thanks."

Three scans the shit array. She has a decent idea as to what she wants… Even if she doesn't even like ice cream that much. It's just too cold.

"Can I get a small rocky road in a cone?" she asks. They nod. "Cool. Thanks."

"Coooould I get…" Eight's voice trails off. "A, um, small strawberry? In a cup."

They nod again and start scooping out ice cream. After doing that, they ring it up at the register.

"That'll be 930 C," they say.

Three reaches into her pocket to pull out her wallet, but Eight lays a hand on Three's wrist.

"I'll pay for it," Eight tells her.

"You paid for dinner last week, I-"

"Three, pleaaaaaaaaase?" She accompanies it with a bright smile and suddenly Three can no longer argue and just nods dumbly. Eight hands the employee her card and they take it.

A few moments later, and they have their ice cream and they leave the parlor.

"So… Um, why did we leave, exactly?" Eight asks quietly.

"I… Was following you." They keep walking down the street.

"... Oh." Eight tries to eat a bite of ice cream but she isn't great at multitasking.

"Do you wanna, uh… Eat in my car, or something?" Eight nods. "Great, I'll, uh. Lead you. I guess."

As they walk, they talk about little things. Small details about their weeks, things they saw recently that made them laugh, tiny things about this and that and nothing at all. It's comforting.

But at the same time, their ice cream is starting to melt, and Three's really starting to regret getting a fucking cone. While it isn't running down her wrist quite yet (thanks to some napkins), it is absolutely trying to. And that's… Less than ideal. Bad, even, because Three's shirt is white, and Three doesn't want to bother removing a stain, and Three doesn't feel like washing her shit or finding her other shirt buried beneath all the others in her dresser.

Eight managed to eat hers (which was slightly melted in a soupy way) in a horrifying display in which she basically just chugged the entire thing. Which might have been kind of hot. Not in a temperature way, fuck off. But still. Three's really fucking hating the cone life right about now.

She takes a bite out of the shit after crossing the street, which is something Four gives her shit about too for whatever reason. Fucking hell, ice cream sucks. Why make cold desserts? It's going to melt. It's fucking stupid. What's the point? Just to suffer? Three feels some of it dribble down her chin and she briefly panics. She goes to wipe it away with her sleeve but then she remembers it's _white _and _fuck _and _eight just grabbed her arm why is she doing that? oh holy shit eight is getting __**awfully **__close she-_

Eight licks her chin.

Three drops her ice cream.

What the shit.

"Fuck," Eight swears. "Oh, gods, Three, I'm so sorry, I-"

Three looks at her and tries to communicate her plight. It is a plight that is, in fact, _cute girl just fucking licked me? wh_ but it is also the kind of plight that leaves you very, very stupid. Because of that, Three sits there and is fully aware of how goddamn _stupid _she must look, but she just doesn't care enough to fix it.

What she does care about is the brief, half-second when Eight's lip touched Three's skin or how her tongue barely grazed Three's own lip.

She cares deeply, and she feels a strong, nigh-uncontrollable urge to just kiss Eight right then and there in the middle of the street, her foot covered in half-melted chocolate ice cream.

Eight's still babbling apologies and Three takes in the deep purple flush to her face. It's a color she's starting to grow fond of, a color she likes more and more the longer she knows Eight.

Three cups Eight's cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb against it before she realizes what she's done. She tenses, stops mid-movement - Eight tenses, halting her speech halfway through another apology. They wait - wait a while, or maybe just a few seconds - and Three finally speaks.

"It's, uh… It's fine." Gingerly, she pulls her hand away. "Don't… Worry. About it." Three tries to smile and finds it to be much more genuine than she thought it'd be.

Eight nods, silent. Her eyes stay trained on Three for more than a few moments, watching her wordlessly. Shit, did Three fuck up? Eight almost always had something to say - at least, she did around Three.

"Sorry," she says. "That- It… That was uncalled for, I-"

"I like your face," Eight blurts out and then immediately claps her hands over her mouth.

It takes Three a moment to process that, and once she does, she feels her blush intensify and she can't help but laugh.

Eight stares at her with a look that couldn't be described as anything besides pure awe. Then, a bit abruptly, she shoves her hands in her pockets.

"You're such a nerd," Three mumbles. "So… Um… You, uh, wanna come over… To my place? We could, like, hang out."

"I- Um, you. It. Yes. I would. Enjoying. I do that. Yeah, it, you, I-" Three raises an eyebrow. Eight sighs. "... Yeah. Also, um, your shoe."

Three looks down at her shoe. "FUCK." Dammit! These were really nice shoes. She could clean it, but- _FUCK! _It's such a fucking pain. Fuck.

"Sorry, I- I can get you a new pair, it-"

"Eight. Do you realize how much shit you've bought me already?"

"What, the ice cream and pizza the other day? It's not that much," she replies quietly. "And this is kinda my fault anyways."

"Did you knock the ice cream out of my hand?"

"No," Eight mumbles. "But I _did _lick you."

"I- Yeah, you did, but-" She remembers the small moment when Eight's lips touched her skin and she blushes. "... Still. You don't owe me anything."

"... You're really nice, Three," Eight tells her. "I'm happy I met you."

"_You too," _Three wants to tell her, but she turns around and quietly clears her throat as she tries not to cry. "C'mon," she says instead, trying her best to force the whimper from her voice. "Let's go."

Eight doesn't say anything about it, or much at all, but Three knows she heard it. She jogs up to Three's side and slips a hand out from the pocket of her hoodie to grab Three's own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"_It's okay."_

It takes a lot of willpower to not just yank her hand away right then and there, and takes even more to stop herself from crying, because Eight cares, somehow, despite not really knowing her. Three steals a glance at Eight, steals a few - each detail, each bit, so _gorgeous _from her bright, wide eyes to the small scars dotting her skin to her nose, crooked and slightly misshapen from a fight from so long ago, lasting like a memory.

Each glance hurts, stings like a stab wound, another metaphorical nail in Three's metaphorical coffin. Each one aches and burns, because Eight is so, so perfect and Three is so, so _not._

By the time they reach Three's car, Three's okay - physically, at least. She gives Eight a small smile when their eyes meet. It's brief and fake and not much at all, and they both know it.

Neither of them say anything.

Three forces a small pang of sadness away. Right now, things aren't about her or her stupid, _stupid _feelings. Things are about Eight and driving and nothing else.

She sneaks another glance at Eight, hoping to catch her eye, wishing she would talk.

Eight doesn't. The car ride is silent.

And, _fuck, _does Three feel stupid.


	4. 1-4 Eight helps fulfill a wish

Eight's finger hovers over the the 'SEND' button as she briefly contemplates committing to things. On one hand, yeah, it's probably a good thing to do, on the other hand, FEELINGS ARE REALLY DUMB AND SCARY AND STUPID AND SHE- YOU KNOW, MAYBE IT WOULD BE BETTER IF SHE SWUNG THREE'S CAR DOOR OPEN AND LET HERSELF DIE.

But then she'd respawn, and then she'd be fined for killing herself, and Three would probably be there with Pearl and Marina and Four, and Three, in Three fashion, would ask her, "Hey, Eight, what the fuck?" which would definitely be the worst possible way to confess her feelings, so…

**You, 5:22 PM: **Hi, Four.. Umm, are you free RN?

**Four, 5:24 PM: **Yeah, I just finished up, what happened?

**Four, 5:24 PM: **You're with Dumbass Mcgee right?

Eight quietly snorts.

**You, 5:24 PM: **In the car, yes.

**You, 5:24 PM: **I… Think I screwed up

**You, 5:24 PM: **So we were getting ice cream and we left the building and I got a cup and finished mine but she got a cone so hers was running down her chin

**You, 5:25 PM: **She was wearing a white shirt from work and I didn't want it to get on her shirt so I panicked and then I licked her

**You, 5:25 PM: **So I think she hates me now because she hasn't talked at all during the car ride

**Four, 5:25 PM: **OK so

**Four, 5:25 PM:** 1: Tatzelwurm below I didn't think things were going to go like THAT when I left you alone

**Four, 5:26 PM: **2: She doesn't hate you, trust me

**You, 5:26 PM: **How can you be sure?

**Four, 5:26 PM: **Well, where are you going?

**You, 5:26 PM: **Her place

**Four, 5:26 PM: **If she's inviting you to her place she obviously doesn't hate you

**Four, 5:26 PM: **I think you're one of like 3 people she's invited there

**Four, 5:26 PM: **Those people being me (her friend of 12 years), Capn (who is like family to her), and now you (someone she's known for like 2 months)

**Four, 5:27 PM: **So you can already see how much she trusts you

**You, 5:27 PM: **Oh.. Really?

**Four, 5:27 PM: **Yeah!

**Four, 5:27 PM: **Even if you only end up staying for like 10 mins before she kicks you out

**Four, 5:27 PM: **It's a pretty big display of trust

**Four, 5:27 PM: **Has she told you her name yet tho?

**You, 5:27 PM: **No, is she supposed to?

**Four, 5:27 PM: **Eh. Just wondering

**You, 5:27 PM: **Why? What is it?

**Four, 5:28 PM: **I'll let her tell you whenever she's ready uwu

**You, 5:28 PM: **What is uwu?

**Four, 5:28 PM: **Oh man we don't have time for that

**You, 5:28 PM: **Okay?

**You, 5:28 PM: **Well, um, while we're on that topic..

**You, 5:28 PM: **What is your name?

**Four, 5:28 PM: **It's Sarah

**Four, 5:28 PM: **But you can still call me 4 if you want

**You, 5:28 PM: **Yeah. I'd like that

**Four, 5:29 PM: **Sooo are you going to ask her?

**You, 5:29 PM: **Ask her what?

**Four, 5:29 PM: **Ask her out

**Four, 5:29 PM: **I know she'll say yes

**You, 5:29 PM: **That's scary though!

**You, 5:29 PM: **What if she doesn't?

**Four, 5:29 PM: **8 I promise you she will

**Four, 5:29 PM: **You can do it!

**You, 5:29 PM: **Can I?

**Four, 5:29 PM: **YES!

**Four, 5:30 PM: **8 you saved the world!

**Four, 5:30 PM: **If you can save the world you can ask 3 out

**You, 5:30 PM: **But this is differentttt

**You, 5:30 PM: **At least that time if I failed I wouldn't have to live with it.

**Four, 5:30 PM: **My god

**Four, 5:30 PM: **You really are perfect for each other

**You, 5:30 PM: **What?

**Four, 5:30 PM: **We don't have time to get into THAT but

**Four, 5:30 PM: **You should really, really ask her out! I promise you you'll be fine

**You, 5:31 PM: **...Okay

**Four, 5:31 PM: **I'm serious! You're nice and sweet and a joy to be around

**Four, 5:31 PM: **Hell, that loser would be lucky to have someone like you

**You, 5:31 PM: **You really mean it..?

**Four, 5:31 PM: **Would I ever lie to you?

**Four, 5:31 PM: **Excluding all the times that I have

**Four, 5:31 PM: **Would I?

**You, 5:31 PM: **Well.. When you put it that way, I guess not

Three pulls into a parking spot and parks the car.

"We're, uh. Here," she mumbles, looking over at Eight. Eight feels her face heat up slightly. "So. Uh… Whenever you're ready."

"Oh, um… Right." Eight slips her phone into the hoodie's pocket and gets out of the car. It beeps after Three takes her keys out and locks it. "Soo..?"

"This way," she mutters, leading Eight inside. She presses the 'up' button the elevator and waits for the doors to slide open. Once they do, she steps inside and begins mashing the button for the fifth floor. The doors slide shut.

Eight checks her phone again, feeling it buzz.

**Four, 5:31 PM: **So are you going to do it?

**Four, 5:34 PM: **Hello?

**You, 5:34 PM: **Yeah.. I guess I should

**Four, 5:34 PM: **Well, I probably should have asked this earlier, but do you even want a relationship with 3?

**You, 5:34 PM: **Yes!

**You, 5:35 PM: **A lot!

**Four, 5:35 PM: **OK! So. You're going to have to tell her then

**You, 5:35 PM: **But.. Do I haaaave to?

**Four, 5:35 PM: **8 there is literally a better chance of me winning the lottery than there is for 3 to grow up and ask you out

**You, 5:35 PM: **.. Fine

**Four, 5:35 PM: **If it matters she's a decent kisser

**You, 5:35 PM: **Why do you know that?

**Four, 5:35 PM: **10th grade she freaked out over being a shit kisser so I had to sit her down and teach her

The elevator stops and Three walks out, giving Eight a slight nod. She follows her out.

**You, 5:35 PM: **I… Okay?

**You, 5:35 PM: **We're at her apartment now

**You, 5:36 PM: **I'll tell you how it goes!

**Four, 5:36 PM: **OK! Good luck c:

She turns her phone off and puts it in her pocket. Following Three to her apartment, she takes in a deep breath and gives Three an awkward smile as she holds the door open for her.

Her apartment is pretty barren. There's a beat-up, sad couch with a few sheets and blankets on it and a TV with a rounded screen and a thick layer of dust on top of it.

Three closes the door and kicks her shoes off. Eight gently slips hers off and sets them next to hers.

She flops down onto the couch and practically sinks into it. Three then sits up. "Uh… You can have a seat, if you want..?"

"Um… Okay." Eight sits down next to her. Does she just… Go ahead and say it? Does… She not? Gods, this is _nerve-wracking._

She feels nervous. It's the kind of nervous rush she'd get when doing a test, the kind of nerves she'd feel when she felt the balloon bag on her back start to pulse… Almost.

Maybe Eight prefers the feeling of testing, because when she tested, she get to try again. Eight had a redo. A second chance, a third chance, a fourth, fifth, _twelfth _chance.

But this time?

Eight has _one._

And Eight fucking _hates _that.

Her hands shake slightly. Her face is flushed a dark purple. She feels floaty and nervous and _warm, _acutely aware of every little moment Three makes.

Eight inhales slowly. Her exhale is shaky and even slower.

"... Eight, is something up?" Three asks, concern visible on her face. It doesn't look right. "Sorry if this isn't, like, my place to really say anything, but you've been pretty quiet and you're kind of worryi-"

"I LIKE YOU," she blurts out, the syllables mushed together. Her face warms even more, if something like that is even _possible. _"... I like you, Three. I… Have feelings for you. Romantic ones." Eight has to stop herself there. She has to stop herself before she tells Three how she dreams of her, how adorable she thinks she is, how she's memorized every crack in Three's lips and how badly she wants to kiss them. How Three's nigh-constant scowl makes her hearts race, how her smile belongs in a museum, how her laugh puts the Calamari Inkantation, the song that changed her life, to shame. How calloused and blistered her hands are and how Eight longs to hold them and kiss each mark, each scratch, each imperfection, kiss them all until they fade.

She manages to say one more thing, and it's an apology: "... Sorry. I… Know this is weird."

Three doesn't respond, not at first. No, at first she mouths the words Eight told her. Then her face flushes a deep, dark marigold as she realizes what Eight said. Eight's starting to think she made a major mistake, and then Three speaks.

"You… Do?" It's not so much speaking as it is croaking, or maybe a mix of the two. "I… Sorry, I just wasn't…" A laugh escapes her lips. "Fuck…" she whispers, and it's accompanied with a stupid, dorky grin.

"You're… Not mad?" Eight asks quietly, feeling her nerves threaten to chew through her.

Three shakes her head 'no.'

"I… No, I'm not."

"... Why?"

"I… I feel the same way," Three admits.

Emotions wash over Eight, ones she can't exactly pinpoint. Relief? Happiness? It barely matters anymore.

"Really?"

"Y-Yeah." She looks down at the floor and then laughs once more. Eight wants to hear it again. "I- Um, this is gonna sound dumb, but… Uh…" Three pauses a bit to try and find her words. "... You wanna, like… Date..?"

"I… Um, it… It's not dumb. At least, I don't think so. A-And, um, to… Answer your question, I… Um. Would enjoy that. A lot."

"... Cool."

Silence settles over them.

"So, uh." Three breaks it. "What do you, uh, wanna do?"

She looks over at the TV. "... You want to watch a movie?"

"Oh, it's, uh. Broken."

"Why do you still have it, then..?"

"... I'm too lazy to get it fixed. Or… Get rid of it."

Eight laughs. Three, never change.

"I have a deck of cards in my bag?" she offers.

"What, you wanna play Strip Poker?"

"At least take me out to dinner first," Eight teases with another laugh, taking delight in the marigold hue to Three's face.

"We just went for ice cream, is that not good enough?"

"Yeah, ice cream that I _paid _for!"

"I _offered!"_

"So?" Eight glares at Three. Three glares back.

A few seconds pass, and then they both start laughing.

"You butt," Eight mumbles, taking her hand in hers.

"You… Scrotum."

"Charming."

"... Look, you know I'm not good under pressure." She shifts awkwardly on the cushion.

"_That's _what you call pressure? You know you're an NSS agent, right?"

"Yeah, but that's, like, a different pressure." Three sighs. "I'm talking about a, uh, social… Pressure. Thing."

"A social pressure thing," Eight repeats to herself and laughs.

"I-" Three flushes a darker hue. "You know what I mean."

Eight leans back into the couch, scooting a little closer to Three. "You're cute," she tells her, simply voicing the words that come to mind, "And I really wanna kiss you."

Wow, Eight didn't think Three could get yellower. Or marigolder. Whatever! Word choice isn't important, the fact that her new girlfriend WHICH IS A REALLY COOL THING TO SAY? AAAAAAA is blushing, like, a _lot _is. Sometimes, Eight worries for her health. Blushing like that all the time is bound to do some damage, right..? Though, Eight will be damned if it's not one of the _cutest _and most _endearing _things she's seen on the surface so far.

"I, um, it, yeah, okay, if you want, you can, uh, do. It. I mean. Up to you, mhm, yeah, totally, you-" Eight gives Three's hand a gentle squeeze. "RIGHT YEP IT CAN HAPPEN YEAH TOTALLY CONSENT IS A THING I'M DOING IT YOU CAN, YEAH, YES, BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT, IT'S NOT ABOUT ME IT'S ABOUT YOU AND WHAT YOU WANT AND IT YEAH."

"Wow," Eight mumbles. "Four was right."

"I-It, she, uh, _what?" _Three furrows her brow slightly.

"Um… You remember last week, right?" She nods. "Yeah, Four told me about that time in high school whe-"

"Oh, that _fucking __**bitch,**__" _she mutters.

"If… You don't mind me asking, how old were you then?" Eight asks. "Since… I figured it was, like, early high school, right?" Three makes a face. Eight raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me…"

"... Seventeen." Eight bites back a laugh. "And it- Y'know, I- There was, like, NSS shit, and- Oh, come on, at least _try _a little harder!"

"Three. How old are you right now?"

"Eighteen, but-" She rolls her eyes. "Don't… Don't look at me like that. Come on."

"You," Eight states, "Are the dumbest, stupidest, cutest moron."

"SPEEEAAAAAAAAKINNNNnnnng of," she… Announces? Transitions? Tries-to-say-smoothly-but-fails-horribly? "You. I, uh, do you. Wanna kiss."

"Yeah," Eight says, voice soft. "I'd really, really like that."

She lets go of Three's hand and brings it up to her cheek, cupping her face. Eight can feel how stupidly _warm_ she is and she briefly wonders if Three has a fever or something because there's no way this kind of thing can _really _be normal but at the same time her face also feels hot and then the reality sets in and then-

They're close. Extremely close.

Eight's breath mingles with Three's as she stares into her eyes. The heterochromia is unique and special and _stunning_ and Eight finds herself enamored with them. The dark red hue of her left, and the blazing blue hue of her right. She knows Three hates her scar, especially that one in particular, even if she never says anything about it. Eight sees how uncomfortable she gets when young inklings in the Square ask about it since _"It's so fresh!"_ and Eight notices the edge to her voice when she tells them whatever excuse comes to mind first. To be fair, Eight doesn't blame her for hating it.

She just wishes Three could see how beautiful it - and how beautiful _all _of Three is - to her.

Eight tenderly strokes Three's cheek. She blushes more when she does.

"You're stunning," she whispers.

"Um. You… Too."

Eight moves closer and Three wraps her arms around Eight, and then their lips meet, and-

It's like the whole world just fades away.

The kiss is so much better than any dream she's ever had, and the gods know she's had a lot. Her lips aren't the softest - they're chapped and a little raw in places - but they still manage to be wonderful nonetheless.

When Eight breaks it, she feels warm and dazed and _good. _

"So, um…" she starts, breaking the silence that settled over them. "Did you… Like it?"

"I- Um. Maybe. Maybe I would… Enjoy another, uh, taste."

Eight rolls her eyes. "That's so corny, you butt."

"Y-Yeah, well..?" She huffs. "I, um… Please?"

With a quiet laugh, she swings her leg over Three's to straddle her and wraps her arms around Three's neck.

"Okay," she says, "But only 'cause you asked nicely."

"Thanks…" And, right before their lips meet, she adds, "And, uh, I'm… I'm not a butt. So. Stop calling me one."

"Yes you are! You're _my _butt."

"... I- Shut up and kiss me, nerd."

Eight laughs softly. "Dork," she mumbles, complying anyways.

… Gods, Eight could stay here forever.

Three lets out a soft pleasured noise that sends a shiver down Eight's spine. Which is: 1. Really cute and 2. Oh great Gods Eight would die to hear that again.

Her fingers curl into Eight's shirt, pulling her closer, closer, and closer still, a silent plea for more. And, well, who is Eight to deny that?

They stay like that for a while, only pausing for brief half-moments for small breaths of air. Eight doesn't know long they spent there. And, well, to be frank, Eight doesn't care. Time stops mattering to her at some point, and she lets herself get lost in the sensation, a pure warm, euphoric bliss.

Eight pulls away, resting her forehead against Three's, both of them panting slightly. Slowly, her eyes open to the sight of Three's eyes staring back at her.

"Was that enough of a second taste for you?" she asks.

Three rolls her eyes. "You probably should have asked that, like, ten minutes ago."

"Aw, don't be grumpy, you butt." Eight pulls her head away. "Besides, you're the one that moaned."

"... It's not _my _fault you're good at this," Three grumbles.

"You're such a dorky, grumpy butt," she tells her as she climbs off her. Sitting down beside her on the couch, she sighs, taking her hand in hers. Three mumbles something that she doesn't catch, but it makes Eight smile anyways.

"Actually," Three starts, "Why _are _you so good at this, anyways?"

"You flatter me so much."

"No, like- Didn't Pearl have to explain what romance was to you, like, two weeks ago?"

"I… Who told you?"

"The mayo goblin herself." Aha. "So… I was just kinda curious, I guess."

"... Okay? Well, I, um… It's not like you're the first person I was ever in a relationship with. Octarian romance exists, but… It's not nearly as defined. Inkling courting rituals are just so… Y'know… Convoluted. And stupid. We'd probably be together a lot earlier if it wasn't for that." Eight pauses. "Although… With how dorky and stupid you sound all the time, maybe not."

"I _don't _sound dorky and stupid!" the stupid dork snaps. _"You're_ the dork here."

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting away dork-free."

"Why not?" Three whines, resting her head on Eight's shoulder. Eight snorts quietly.

"'Cause you're a dork," she states. "If you aren't a dork, what are you?"

Three stops to think. "As ass."

"A _butt," _Eight corrects. "You're either a _dork _or a _butt."_

"You suck."

"And you swallow." Three lets out a loud, wheeze-like laugh that's followed by a coughing fit. "What?"

"Where the _fuck," _she says between coughs, "Did you _learn _that?"

"I think it was Four," Eight replies plainly. "Either her or Pearl."

"Fucking hell," Three swears, wiping her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbles, not sorry at all. "But, um… What exactly do you want to do?"

"Uh." Three pauses. "... I dunno. I don't, like, have a lot here."

Eight nods. "I know."

"... You ever played Monopoly?"

"I don't think so." Three takes that as enough of an answer and ungracefully gets off the couch. "I guess I'd like to try it."

"Sweet." She drops to her knees with a dull _thud _as she starts rummaging from beneath the couch. Three swears softly and pulls out a box. The lettering on it is faded and the top of it is coated with dust, but Three wipes it away and then smears dust on the couch… Which is kinda gross, but Eight's kind of expecting it. "Just watch out, I'm fucking great at this game."

Eight rolls her eyes with a gentle laugh. "Okay, Three. But… Please remember to teach me how to play."

"Aw, but then you might _win."_

"Gods, you're such a loser."

"You're an assface." Three sets the box onto the coffee table and starts setting up the board.

"Well," Eight muses, "It's a lot better than _scrotum, _you butt."

"Oh, now you've done it." Three gives her a lopsided grin that Eight's sure she's returning. "Prepare to lose."

"I'd love to see you try."

(Somewhere in the universe, Four feels a deep, unbearable weight get lifted off her shoulders.)

(_"Finally," _she whispers. Marie cocks an eyebrow, but she doesn't dare question it.)


	5. 1-5 Pearl panics a lot

Pearl's shit is officially flipped. No, it's more than flipped. Her shit is in the Olympics for gymnastics _and _ice skating. It's rotating. Flying around willy-nilly. Going fucking bonkers. Her shit turned around, like, seventeen times mid-air, that's how flipped it is.

"... Pearlie?" Marina calls gently. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Are you?" she asks.. Checking her phone and seeing nothing new, she slams it down on the table and begins pacing frantically again. "Reena, she could have _died._"

"I don't think she died," Marina replies. How the fuck can she be so calm right now? "She saved the world. I think she can handle being on her own for twelve hours."

"It hasn't been twelve hours, _it's been fifteen,_" Pearl snaps and then groans loudly. "And she saved the world _with adult supervision._"

Marina drums her fingers on the table as she takes a long sip of her coffee. "Three's an adult, you know."

"Yeah, but she's _younger _than Eight." Pearl huffs. "And I don't trust her. She's got bad vibes in her eyes. Aren't you worried for our daughter's safety?"

"Yes, Pearlie, those 'bad vibes' are called contacts." Another long sip. "I'm a little worried, but… Well, you know how things are between them. They might have been… _Busy._" Pearl catches Marina's coy smirk.

"Reena, now is _**NOT**_ the time to be a hopeless romantic!" She starts pacing faster. "I bet Three fucking stabbed her sixty million times and then, like, ate her fucking corpse or something."

"You're being a little irrational." _Siiiiip. _

"I am NOT!" she yells, and some of Marina's coffee bounces out.

"Watch your volume, Pearlie. I don't want a burn."

"And I want Eight to _live_." Before she can continue, she hears her phone ring and she races over to it, answering it without looking at the contact. "Hello?"

"_Um, hi, Pearl."_ Eight's voice sounds groggy and husky, like she just woke up. Pearl puts her on speaker immediately. "_Sorry, you're not busy right now, are y-"_

"EIGHT," Pearl cries and she sees Marina wince. "Oh my cod, are you okay?! I thought you _died._"

"_Um… Yes, I am… Okay." _Hesitant. Why does Eight sound hesitant? Is she okay? Is she being held hostage? Pearl starts pacing again. "_I'm with Three."_

"Are you?" Marina asks. "What happened?"

"_We…" _Her voice trails off. "_... Fell asleep."_

They both make eye contact. "_Don't say it," _Pearl mouths. "_Don't."_

Marina does.

"Oh, did you, now?" She takes another sip of coffee. "And what'd you do before that?"

Eight goes quiet.

"_... Things."_ Marina snorts. "_Why?"_

"Pearlie was convinced Three _killed _you."

"Yeah?! And _you _were convinced they _fucked._"

She hears Eight make a noise of vague shock on the other end.

"_What?"_

"Did you?" Marina asks.

"Reena, c'mon-"

"_I, um…" _She can't see her right now, but Pearl imagines Eight fiddling with the tassels on the hoodie she got spontaneously one day, or twirling her tentacles, or fiddling her thumbs. "_... No, but we were, um… Intimate?"_

"Oh?" They make eye contact again. No words are spoken. Three are exchanged: _I told you._ "Well, either way, we're happy for you."

"_Thank you?"_ Eight offers.

"So, uh." Pearl tries to change the subject. "What're you up to now?"

"_Oh, Three's making breakfast. She has work at 12:00, but she insisted…" _Eight laughs. "_I'm sorry for worrying you, by the way."_

"It's fine," she tells her. "Just as long as you're safe."

"_Okay…" _Someone - probably Three - says something to Eight. Pearl hears the ruffling of blankets and sheets. "_Um, I have to go, but I'll see you later!"_

"Mkay… Bye, Eight."

"See you!" Marina says with a wave they both know Eight can't see.

_Click._

"You owe me 5000 C," Marina says, taking another sip of her drink. It's a trivial amount, but it's not the money that matters here.

Pearl rolls her eyes with a laugh. "Fine." It's a bet she's okay with losing for once.

* * *

Three sighs quietly as she transfers a tray of cookies into the display. Today… Was good. Yesterday, too. If she thinks about it enough, she can still taste Eight on her lips, and the thought makes her face warm.

Sliding the door shut, she hears the bells ring. Standing up, she gives them a warm smile.

"Hi, welcome to Oceanside, how are you today?"

"Summer, fancy seeing you again," Four greets. "I'm alright, thanks for asking. … But what about _you_?"

"... What about me?" Three drums her fingers against the counter.

"A little birdie told me things got a little _spicy _between you and Eight," she replies with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Three rolls her eyes.

"Yeah? And a little birdie needs to learn to _shut the fuck up._"

Four laughs. "C'moooon, how'd it go? Did ya smooch?"

"... Shut up and order, loser."

"No, totally not! You can't speak to customers like that."

"You haven't bought anything, so you're not a customer."

"Ugh, _fine. _Uh…" She scans the menu briefly. "Espresso, bit of sugar, bit of cream."

Three nods. "Here?"

"Nah, to go." She turns around to go make the drink. "So… Are you and Eight finally a thing?"

"... I guess," Three mumbles.

"Oh, what do you mean, you _guess?_ You either _are _or you _aren't._"

"FINE," she says with a sigh, "We are."

"See? It wasn't just wishful thinking." Three finishes making the drink and she sets it on the counter as she rings Four up.

"238 C," she tells her. "And… Look, don't act like you're, like, some kind of outstanding fuckin' romantic." Four hands Three her card.

"I mean, given the other people in our friend group…" Her voice trails off. "Or should I say, our acquaintanceship-with-benefits group..?" Four pauses. "Y'know, you might _actually _have, uh, _benefits _with Eight now."

"... Just take your damn coffee," she grumbles.

Four laughs lightly as she takes the drink. "Okay, okay, fine. But, like… Do you wanna go turfing later? I promise I'll actually show up."

"Sure."

She shoots Three a smile. "Awesome! I'll see you then."

As Four leaves, Three smiles to herself.

It really wasn't wishful thinking after all.


	6. 2-1 Eight sucks at Monopoly

Ah, heck, Three's adorable.

Loud? Yes. Grumpy? Yes. Unfortunately-yet-constantly smelling like sweat? Yes. Banned from multiple food establishments? Sadly, yes.

But... Also undeniably cute! ... Even if she denies it all the time, like a complete and utter _butt._

Is it _wrong _of Eight to think so? Definitely not. Especially when she's in that, like, tired-but-too-stubborn-to-sleep state after she's taken out her contacts and just wears her glasses, but they keep slipping down her nose and she gets grumpier and grumpier with how much she has to push them up. And then the grumpier she gets, the more she slouches, and her posture is _awful _but that's okay, kind of! Not really... But she won't fix it, ever, and Eight respects her decision. And by "respects her decision," Eight means she absolutely disrespects it and wants Three to change so she doesn't destroy her back at the tender age of eighteen and doesn't end up looking like Mr. Cuttlefish before she's even old enough to legally drink.

Three pushes her glasses up again and mutters a series of swears that Eight can't hear too well. Still, it brings a smile to Eight's face. Three, however, is doing the opposite of smiling, which is scowling, and before you say "The opposite of a smile is a frown!" Eight knows and doesn't care. Her scowl and her resting face are two very similar things that most people would get confused, but Eight can tell the difference at this point. When she scowls, aka Right Now, she furrows her brow a little more, her pupils get a little smaller (Gods, Eight loves her eyes so, so much...) and she purses her lips a bit more. Oh, well, they're moving a bit more now. Recently she's started using lip balm, so they're not nearly as chapped, and sometimes Eight can taste it when she kisses her. Three's bought, like, a bunch of flavours that are all artificial but undeniably sweet, minus the mint one. Mint isn't even that good, but Eight honestly doesn't care when she has Three pinned against a wall or... Really any surface? Most... Surfaces? Maybe not a stove, and cars are awkward, but... Eh. When it comes to mint lip balm, she doesn't care all that much. She doesn't care about lip balm flavours in general, but it's cute that Three thinks about buying them. Maybe it's because she tends to bite them when she's nervous or super pissed, but she doesn't need so many, does she? Eight's pretty sure she normally wears... Some kind of fruit most of the time. And, well, sometimes she makes Eight guess. (And if Eight purposefully guesses wrong so she can kiss her again? Her secret to keep!)

But, see, now Eight's curious. Is she wearing any right now? Would it be rude of Eight to try and find out? Ah, is Three saying something? Gods... What a _butt. _How... Adorable..!

She snaps her fingers a few times, getting Eight's attention.

"Are you done staring yet?" she snaps. "It's your turn."

"Oh." Eight laughs softly, feeling her face warm. "Sorry."

"Fucking hell, you space out a lot." Three hands Eight the set of dice.

Eight rolls and they loudly clatter against the coffee table - a three and four, so she moves seven spaces. Her little plastic game piece clacks with each movement.

"It's not _my _fault I'm so often enraptured with your _illustrious _beauty." She laughs again when she sees Three make a series of _very _funny faces... In this exact order: shock, vague anger, shock again, and then wild confusion.

"Where the fuck do you keep _learning _these things?"

"Four." Three rolls her eyes. "Who else?"

She snatches the dice angrily. "I dunno, your moms?"

"Pearl never took theater. You know this." A six - two threes. Three rolls again.

"I mean, I didn't... But thanks." An eight this time - two fours. "I'm going to fucking _scream _if I get doubles again." She passes GO and collects 20,000 C. Fake... C? "Speaking of, how are they doing?"

"They're okay, I guess? I dunno," Eight replies with a shrug, only to laugh sharply when Three rolls a two. Or... Snake eyes, if you prefer.

"Mother_fuCKER,_" she screams, slamming her fist against the table with a loud _thud_.

"Go to jail, you stinky baby." Three gives her a glare that would scare the most hardened soldiers. Too bad Eight's not a soldier anymore. "But, um, to answer your question, they haven't been so busy lately. I think they might throw the celebratory party soon?"

"Party?" Three asks, dropping her little plastic boat in the orange section of the jail square. "What party?"

Eight rolls - five. She lands on Three's property and slides her 15,000 C.

"Well, they said they'd throw me one once I got to the surface? Like, as a 'Congrats, you survived!' kind of party," she explains. Three huffs and rolls an eleven. "They just haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Eight. It's been three months." Eight nods. "They couldn't fucking find time at _all _during that time?"

"Well... They're idols." A three. Eight's finally back on her own properties! "They've been really busy lately..."

"I don't care _how _popular they are," Three snarls. "They haven't made _any _fucking time for you?"

"Don't be so mad..." she mumbles, knowing fully that telling Three to not be mad is like telling Pearl to not be loud. "They'll do it eventually."

"Eventually my _ass._ I'll fuckin' throw you a party if I goddamn have to." Seven - three and four. She swears quietly as she shoves the dice into Eight's hand.

"You don't have to..."

"Yeah? Too fucking bad. I _want _to." She rolls her eyes. "You of all people deserve it. Saved the damn world, and they're too busy to throw you a fucking party? Doesn't even have to be grand or anything, just a cake and some small shitty paper hats and..." Her muttering grows angrier and quieter with each word. Eight rolls two fives and then rolls again, landing on Three's property. Again. She gives her 5,000 C with the dice.

"Are cakes, like, a party thing..?"

"Sometimes." Three finally rolls doubles and escapes the dark confines of Stinky Baby Jail. "I could probably make one..."

"You bake?"

"Eight. I work at a bakery."

"Yeah, but... Four works as a professional turfer, and she's not even that good at it." Three snorts. "What? It's true."

"She's better on the field, I'll give you that..." Three rolls and lands on a railroad and hands Eight 25,000 C with a dramatic eye roll. "But yeah, I can bake... Sort of. I'm not, like, chef level, but it's better than the boxed shit."

"You can buy cake in a box?" Three visibly deflates.

"I hate rich people," she states plainly. "But yeah, you can. It's just the dry mix, though. They're pretty shitty, but they get a little better when you add mayo."

Eight sighs. "I thought you hated mayo?"

"I do." What. "BUT, it adds moisture and you can't taste it."

"... I hate that," Eight mumbles. "I really, really hate that."

"I mean, it _works._" Three rolls her eyes. Eight rolls the dice and lands on Three's property again. Jerk. "Still. I'll... Fucking get something together for you."

"Thanks, Three." Eight gives her a small smile. "That means a lot to me."

"... It's nothing." Her voice gets smaller and she quietly clears her throat, looking away.

"It really isn't. I mean, you don't even have to... Like, do anything. I don't really need a party or anything like that, but... You seem adamant about it." Eight plays with the dice in her hand. "Really, spending time with you is nice enough."

Three goes silent. Eight wonders if she said something wrong.

"Sorry, I-"

"Don't. I... You. You deserve nice things. And... I, y'know, it..." She clears her throat - louder, this time, and sniffs quietly. "Sorry." Her voice wavers.

"Thank you, Three." Three nods slightly and wipes away a tear. She always seems to cry whenever Eight's just... Nice to her, which makes her wonder if any ever complements her at all. She never really understands why her girlfriend gets so emotional when it comes to these kind of things, though, but... Three will tell her whenever she's ready. "Do you want to stop playing for tonight?"

She nods again, reaching for the Monopoly box with their labelled plastic bags inside. Eight stops her hand with her own, and Three pulls hers away. She quietly sorts the pieces and money away, jotting down a few notes on which hotels and houses went where.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Eight asks, putting the lid back on the box and sliding beneath the coffee table.

"Yeah, sure," she mumbles. Three doesn't say anything about the whimper in her voice, so Eight doesn't either.

Glancing over at Three, she notes Three's furiously typing _something _on her phone, although Eight doesn't know what. She finishes whatever she's typing and then sets her phone down on the ground as it continues to charge.

Eight wants to ask what she typed, but, well... It doesn't matter.

Honestly, just as long as Three's happy... Eight can't care too much.

* * *

It turns out it mattered.

"Hey, Eight?" Pearl asks as Eight sits down in the back seat of her car. "Do you want to explain why your girlfriend very angrily texted us about a party last night?"

"She... What?" Pearl holds up her phone, showing Eight the very vulgar and very angry messages Three bombarded her with. "Oh, Gods."

"Did you... Mention one to her?" Marina asks, messing around with the radio. Pearl puts her phone down as she begins driving. "Since... I- We're both... Very confused."

"Oh, um..." Eight twirls one of her hoodie's tassels. Is it still Three's..? She never asked for it back... "You, um... Do you remember the, uh, 'Congrats! You survived Kamabo!' party you said you'd throw for me? Right, I offhandedly mentioned it and she got... Um... _Pissed._"

"What pa..." Pearl's voice trails off and Marina voices the thought they're probably both sharing: "Ah. Shit."

"... Did you forget?" she asks, now tugging at the tassels.

"I, uh- No. Definitely not."

"I... I don't blame you if you did," Eight admits. "I know you're busy with Off the Hook and Inkopolis News, and you're probably tired by the end of the day anyways, so..." Pearl looks a little upset, from what she can see in the rear-view mirror. Why? Did Eight mess up? "It's fine, really. Three said she'd do something for me, anyways, although... I don't really understand _why, _but she really, really wanted to and-"

"Eight, we're, um, working with Three! On that." Marina starts frantically typing something on her phone. "Yeah."

"... Okay?" Eight sighs quietly. "You don't have to lie to me. Your lives come first. I'd probably forget, too."

"NOPE!" Pearl says, making both Marina and Eight wince at her volume. "No, we, uh, didn't forget. Not at all. We're... We're working on it!"

"You know," Eight starts, looking out the window, "You're both really shitty liars."

"... I'm sorry, Eight," Marina mumbles. "We should have done it earlier."

"It's fine, really! You've done enough for me as it is, anyways..."

"No, it's really not..." She sighs, switching the radio station.

"Reena, I _liked _that song," Pearl grumbles.

"Yes, Pearlie, and I like _hearing._"

"If you like hearing so much, why are you dating me?"

Marina goes silent. "... Sometimes people make bad decisions."

"Oh, you know _damn _well I'm not a _bad _decision. I'll prove it to you toni-"

"THAAAAAAAT'S ENOUgh now, dear, thanks." Marina continues to switch through the stations before settling on some station that's playing the same songs over and over again. "But, um, Eight... Do you have a favourite cake at all?"

Eight shrugs and then remembers no one can see it. "I don't think so? Besides the ketchup cake... Or, like, mayo frosting."

"... I _suppose _I can see where you're coming from." Marina's claws audibly tap against her phone screen. "Okay, okay. Sooo... Well, do you even... Like cake that much? Or do you like ice cream more?"

"Eh." Eight makes a so-so gesture that no one can see, either. "They're both okay?"

"... Well, we can get both." Marina hums softly as she continues to type away.

"So... Eight! Is there anything in particular that you want?" Pearl asks, taking the opportunity to change the radio station to something that isn't The Same Three Songs by Wet Floor: The Game. Eight quietly thanks her.

"Um... Well, I had a nice set of pens that ran out of ink?" She twirls a tassel around as she thinks. "And, um... One side of my headphones stopped working, so I only get sound in my left ear."

"Eight," Pearl starts, "You are both pathetically simple and disgustingly hard to buy for."

"Well, I-" Eight sighs. "You know I don't really _need _much, and you're already housing me as it is."

"What do you want, then? Doesn't have to explicitly be material."

"I... Just want to spend some time with you all. That's really it." She sighs quietly. "You've been super busy following the NILS attack, and it's hard to get all - or most - of my friends in one place. So... Yeah."

"Okay..." Pearl goes quiet. A Chirpy Chips song starts playing while Marina's loud tapping continues.

"We'll get something together for you, I promise," Marina tells her. "I wish you said something earlier, though..."

Eight nods absentmindedly, thoroughly done with this conversation. On one hand, it hurts a little, knowing they completely forgot about her, but... Well, they're busy, and Eight has other friends, anyways.

Besides, she's sure the party will go smoothly nonetheless. Assuming it... Even happens.

Her phone buzzes from a text from Four. _"Do you mind explaining why Three just threw her phone at the wall and yelled 'I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HER PARENTS'?"_

"_No," _she replies, then shuts her phone off and slams her head into the back of Marina's seat.

No one questions it.


	7. 2-2 Three gets a finger in her mouth

Three lets out a loud, annoyed groan as she begins to massage her temples. Four - whose lap she's resting her head on - gingerly pats her face, which didn't help the situation much. The thought counts, though, and Three can't really bring herself to be mad at her.

But what she _can _fucking be mad at are Eight's parents. Her... Pseudo-parents? They're not really _adoptive, _but... Whatever. Fuck semantics and fuck Off the Hook. Three is incomprehensibly _pissed. _In an angry way. Moments earlier, shs threw her phone at the wall of Four's apartment with so much force that she thinks the screen cracked and died.

Like her roller... Which is still fucking broken. So what if it's been a month? Three has other shit going on in her life. Shit like working with bitchy fifteen year-olds and _not committing murder._ The second thing is a little more achievable with Four, but only fucking barely. Three sent her an angry message or seven last night, and she woke up to a _"Come over and yell at me because you're too stubborn to fucking see a therapist :/" _today, so...

Yeah. Sometimes Three appreciates her shitty acquaintance, and sometimes Three wonders why her shitty acquaintance fucking lives in the same complex as her, but, like, three floors higher than her. Or, well... Fuck. She knows the reason, but she fucking chooses not to acknowledge it at all, ever, fuck you, why don't we get back to the topic at hand here.

"So... Why are you killing Eight's parents again?" Four asks, and then pauses. "Actually, does she even _have _parents? Like, biological ones. Isn't she from a tube or somethi-"

"The LESBIANS, Sarah," Three snaps. "Fucking promised her a 'Congrats! You fucking _lived' _party after the _shitshow _in Kamabo, and then _fucking __**forgot.**_ What the _fuck? _So that already pissed me off on top of getting my ass thrown in Monopoly jail, but Eight and I fell asleep and I pretended to forget about it. She left this morning, and then not even three fucking minutes later I get a stream of _frantic _fucking texts from Marina." She rolls her eyes dramatically. Four coos a long series of gibberish as she continues to stroke Three's face. "Like, oh, we forgot about this person that literally _saved our goddamn fucking lives, _but youuuuu brought it up! Therefore, we're gonna take _all _the goddamn credit from you. But it's fine, right?" Her voice grows more and more sickeningly sweet by the second. "We all _loooooove _Eight so, so, SO! much, so it's fiiiiine!" She digs her nails into her cheek and snarls, "Even if we _fucking __**FORGOT**_ about her."

"They're such assholes," Four mumbles in the patronizing tone you use to speak to a dumb, idiot toddler. "Total dickbags."

"Sarah. Don't be an ass."

"I'm _helping _you, aren't I?" She motions towards the large fuzzy blanket that's covering Three. "But, like, actually though? That's... Kind of fucked up."

"And Eight's, like, in denial about the whole forgetting thing?" Forcing some semblance of emotion into her normally flat voice, she raises the pitch a bit as she tries (and fails horribly) at imitating Eight. "Well, they've been _busy. _It's okay! They're _idols _and _gay, _which means it's fine to _completely fucking __**forget **__me._" She continues to dig her nails into her face until Four taps her hand twice and she relaxes a little. "I just. Can't fucking _believe _them." She sighs. Four makes the mistake of thinking Three is done. "AND it's not like they even have to do anything extravagant? She doesn't need anything fucking _new, _Pearl's fucking loaded. Like, living-in-Sunset Court loaded. Just... Just a fucking cake or ice cream or pie or whatever the fuck and a candle or two and those shitty paper cone hats with the tinsel on them? Invite some friends and just fucking hang out. I know that's all she really goddamn _wants _anyways."

Four hums softly as she continues to pat Three's face. A finger jabs Three in the beak. No one says anything about it.

"Have you told them that?" she asks.

"No," Three grumbles. "I don't even want to fucking _talk _to them. Just fucking _thinking _about it, it-" She inhales sharply and exhales dramatically. "UGH."

"Ugh," Four repeats, nodding. "So, what do you think we should do..?"

"I think," she starts, "That we should find out when the shittier, less-fun party is happening, and then plan one she'll actually like at the same time and get her to come anyways."

"Summer. Summer, look at me." Four pulls her hands away from Three's face. "That is the _shittiest, worst _idea I have _ever _heard."

"Then what do _you _have in mind?"

"Attend the party," she states plainly.

Three groans again and slaps Four's hands back onto her face. "AWFUL," she yells, voice muffled. "AWFUL SHITTIEST WORST IDEA _EVER._"

"How the fuck is that a bad idea?" Four rolls her eyes. "Just go there and be civi-"

"THAT'S THE FUCKING _PROBLEM_," Three snaps. "It's so _hard _to be nice at my day job, so imagine how fucking shitty it's going to be when I'm around people I can't fucking _stand._"

"A wise man once told me, 'kill 'em with kindness,'" Four says sagely. Three let out a muffled noise of incomprehensible rage.

"Fuck that! I have _guns._"

"Guns don't solve every problem."

"Name one problem, Sarah. Name one problem."

"Bad vision."

"LASIK surgery."

"Lasers aren't guns, they're gun _adjacent._" Four rolls her eyes. "Anyways. I think you should help them plan the party."

"Whyyyy_yyyyyyy?_" Three doesn't whine. Why would Three whine? That's right. She fucking doesn't, and fuck you, and fuck people, and die.

"One: Eight will be happy. Two: Promise you'll help them in return for a favour and then ask them to do something that isn't harmful in any way, shape, or form, but does make them pretty uncomfortable. Three: Eight will be happy. Four: Imagine the food..."

"You... Make a good argument." Fuck, when's the last time she had any decent fucking food, anyways? Three practically lives off soggy fast food, at this rate. "Still... Do I _have _to..?"

"Another thing a wise man once told me, 'you don't get pussy by being an asshole,'" Four says in the same sagelike tone. "Besiiiides, it's for the food."

"... God. I fucking love food," she mumbles. "And- Y'know, Eight already tolerates me as the asshole that I am? I'll fucking do it for food but I don't have to be _nice _about it."

"But you'll get pussy... There's a difference between a girlfriend and some quality octopu-" Three takes Four's hand in her mouth and bites down. Hard. "FUCKING SHIT, SUMMER, WHAT THE HELL?"

"'e a'et," she mumbles around the hand, tasting a little bit of ink. Four yanks her hand away and smears it on Three's shirt. Which, 1: Gross, and 2: Yeah she deserved that but that doesn't mean she likes it. "Be quiet," she repeats.

"You're such a dick sometimes," Four grumbles.

"But you love me anyways." Three places Four's slightly-bloody hand back onto her face. Gross? Maybe. Does she care? Fuck no.

"You're so _chompy,_" she mumbles, smearing ink on Three's cheek. "If this fucking scars, I'm not talking to you again. I already have one _on my face._"

"I _said _sorry!" She sighs. "It's barely noticeable, anyways..."

"Marie won't stop asking about it..." Four shudders. "God, I hope she doesn't find out."

"No one knows about it, right..?" She shakes her head. "See? We're fine."

Four sighs. "Still, getting back on topic... I think you should help them plan the party."

"I think you should eat my piss and shit." Four moves a hand away to glare at Three. Three claps it back onto her face. "Can you plan it with me at least?"

"No." Fuck you. "I can stay with Eight and help her pick out... Party shit. Like, cake flavours and dumb party hats or something. No offense, but... Both you and her moms can be a little, uh, overbearing."

Three rolls her eyes. "Consider my eyes _fucking _rolled," she mutters.

"They've been considered," Four replies, slumping further into the couch. "But seriously, I think you'd stress her out with how mad you get. And... I know she thinks you're cute when you're mad, but there's a limit to it, ya know?" Three did, indeed, know, and she nods in agreement. Unfortunately, nodding is hard with two hands on your face, so she gives a thumbs up which is immediately followed by the bird. "Oh, charming."

"You know it." Before either of them could continue, Three's phone buzzes sadly on the floor, which is surprising considering both of them believed it died upon impact. She sighs. Four sighs. They all sigh. "... Can you get it?"

"Fuck no." Three pulls a hand off her face to look at Four with sad, pleading eyes. "I said _fuck _no." Three shoves the other hand off her face and flails her way out of the fuzzy blanket. "Hey, while you're over there, can you grab the tentacle oil?"

"Why the _fuck _do you need tentacle oil now?" Three snaps, grabbing her phone and then blindly looks around for the clear bottle of oil. Finding it, she squints at the label. "... You got the fucking peach-scented one?"

"It was on _sale _and if there's one thing you know about me, it's that I'm a _slut _for _Bath and Body Works!_" she shouts, punctuating each syllable of 'Bath and Body Works' with a clap. "... It was that or Teakwood (High Intensity) and I don't want to smell like someone who uses the _Dapples _of all things."

Three chooses to not grace her with a verbal reply and instead stares right into her sad, Bath-and-Body-Works-loving soul where all the clearance items go to die. It gets the message across.

"Okay," she starts, "But why the fuck do you want it now?"

"To put it on you," she replies and Three admits defeat. "You're pissed, the text is probably going to piss you off, and your tentacles are dull and sad in the way that usually only happens when you're wildly hungover." Four pauses. "Actually, are you? That would explain a lo-"

"... I feel like you of all people should know when I'm hungover or not." Plopping back onto the couch, she hands Four the bottle and lays back down, this time on her stomach. She shoves a pillow between her chin and Four's thigh, and groans loudly when she sees the contact.

"Is it a lesbian?" Four asks as she pours some of the oil into her hand and begins to rub it on Three's tentacles. Despite the fact that it smells like artificial ass, it's not too bad. Small ripples of sea-green spread from the parts where Four touches.

"Of course it's a lesbian," Three mumbles. "All of my fucking friends are lesbians."

"Justin's not a lesbian."

"Justin's not my _friend._"

Four pauses. "Well, _I'm _not a lesbian."

"... Oh, right. I forgot about that." Four snorts. "What? It's not like you've dated anyone in a while, anyways."

"Yeah, okay, I know I'm an ince-"

"You have_, _like, _five _people who all want to date you at _least._"

"... Right, but they're gross. Like, Derek-is-my-_first-_choice gross." Three shudders. "Yeah. Anyways... Did Off the Moms text you?"

"Yeah..."

**Marina, 11:41 AM: **Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you help us with Eight's party? ;w; We were planning on having it today or tomorrow or something;;

**You, UNSENT: **Hey I'm sorry to bother you but would you eat my piss and shit? ;w;

"Don't send that." Three rolls her eyes and starts to relax again as Four continues to spread that shitty peach shit all over her head. A small squeak escapes her lips when Four reaches one of the tiny ones on the back of her head. "Sorry, does that hurt?"

"Just surprising." Four makes an 'mh' noise and keeps going. "So... You want me to agree?"

"Yep!" she replies, popping the 'p'. "Just be civil."

**You, 11:43 AM: **Of course I'd be happy to help

**Marina, 11:43 AM: **! Really? Thanks so much! c:

**You, 11:43 AM: **Yeah totally

**You, 11:44 AM: **What do you need me to do?

**Marina, 11:44 AM: **Aaaa ty! :'

**Marina, 11:44 AM: **Could you help us with food preparation?

**You, 11:44 AM: **Its a 3 person thinhjgjjjdjwhsws

"Sarah!" Three snaps at Four wrenches the phone from her hands. "What the fuck, dude?"

**You, 11:44 AM: **Yeah, I will. It's fine

**Marina, 11:44 AM:** Um... Are you okay?

**You, 11:44 AM: **Yep I'm fiiifjbzbxx

"I'm _helping _you." She sighs. "Fucking hit the TTS button."

"Okay? And? You're getting oil everywhere." She swings for it again and misses.

**You, 11:45 AM: **Sorry, I dropped my phone again, I'm just clumsy todayzxx god damn it you keep hitting the button I don't give a shit give it back you fucker no fuck you don't you bite me oh my god here let me hit cancel fucking shit

**Marina, 11:47 AM: **.

**Marina, 11:47 AM: **Do you need any help?

Three slams her palm into Four's chin and gets her phone back.

"Asshole," she snarls.

"Dickweed."

**You, 11:48 AM: **Sorry 4 stole my fucking phone again

**Marina, 11:48 AM: **Does that happen a lot?

**You, 11:48 AM: **Sort of

**You, 11:49 AM: **I know she'd love to help though

**Marina, 11:49 AM: **Ooh would she? That would be really great! (ノ^o^)ノ

Three suppresses a gag.

"What'd she say?" Four asks, peering over her shoulder. Nosy bitch.

"It's one of the tiny fucking Anglerian emote guys," she mumbles, turning the phone to show her. "What do you bet she owns a body pillow?"

"Um..." Four's voice trails off. "Don't you _also _own body pillows? As in _multiple?_"

What the fuck. How does she know about those? She _shouldn't? _

Three panics inwardly.

"No?" she snaps, and then fucking realizes her defensiveness is evidence against her. "I don't own any body pillows. Why the fuck would I own a body pillow? I'm not a _weeb._"

"... Summer," Four says with a small sigh. "You know how many times I've looked for towels in your place, only to find the world's saddest, most-crumpled up form of Splatsune Minku?" Three freezes. "Look. I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone about..." She pauses for dramatic effect. _"It."_

Ah. It.

"No. I promise, I won't." Three means it. Her lips are fucking _sealed _as long as it means no one fucking knows about Splatsune. "Just- Fuck, don't tell Eight."

"I don't think Eight's the type to judge... She seems too nice for that, y'know?" Three nods. "I think you'd have to worry about Marie, if anything."

"Mh. Yeah, okay, I guess. Just... Don't fucking tell her, either. Don't tell anyone."

"How many do you have, anyways?" she asks, squishing one of the ends of Three's larger tentacles as she talks. "So far I've seen Splatsune and, like, one of the yellow ones?"

"... You mean Krakengamine?" Four snorts. "_What? _That's her _name._"

"You fucking loser," she mutters, giving her head a pat. "Anyways, yeah, Marina probably does."

Three nods. "Definitely."

**You, 11:52 AM: **Yea she said she'd like to take 8 out to look at shit

**Marina, 11:52 AM: **Oh, sure! That way it can be more of a surprise! ,,v,,

**You, 11:53 AM: **Right when do you want us over

**Marina, 11:53 AM: **Will 1 work?

"Will you be ready by 1:00?" Three asks.

"I'm _literally _already ready."

**You, 11:53 AM: **Yea

**Marina, 11:53 AM: **! Awesome, I'll tell Pearl + Eight c:

Three leaves her on read.

"Hey, Sarah?"

"Hm?"

"I fucking hate you," she deadpans, shoving her phone against the couch and burying her face in the pillow.

* * *

Four insists on leaving at 12:10 because the drive is thirty minutes, which sometimes means it's forty minutes, and how _dare_ they be late. Three insists on making Four drive, because she doesn't fucking want to go, and if Four wants her there so badly, Four can fucking take her.

Unfortunately, because it's Four's car, Four has control of the radio. Which sucks because Four has the shittiest awfulest _worstest _taste in music known to cephalokind.

"Please," she begs, "Please stop fucking playing Carly Mantaray."

"Nope!" Four replies cheerily, pressing the rewind button. Three groans loudly as Warm Ink starts to play.

Again.

For the fifteenth _fucking _time.

"Why do you even like her so much?" she almost whines. "It's overproduced pop _garbage._"

"... Don't fucking insult Carly in my _damn _car."

"Have you seen her fucking bangs? They're like sad fucking curtains."

"Summer, she literally has the same fucking haircut as you." Three sputters wildly because that's rude and also not fucking true. "Don't make broken garbage disposal noises at me. You're just mad because..." Four pauses. "Actually, why the fuck _are _you mad?"

"Because she _SUCKS._" Four rolls her eyes. "Keep those fuckers _still._" She rolls them again. "... Bitch."

"You know it." She hums to the tune of the song as Three continues to slump further into the seat. "Hey, you got their address?"

"Yeah." She tells Four without checking it. Four blinks with _emphasis, _and Three sighs. "Just make a left."

They go on like that for a little bit - Four driving shittily and almost killing everyone while Three drones instructions, and they end up at their place a little earlier than expected.

"... Can we stay in here and wait until 1:00?" Three pleads, glancing at the clock. 12:47 - she could _totally _handle listening to Carly Mantaray for thirteen minutes compared to the alternative.

"Don't be a baby," Four mutters with an eye roll. She pulls out her keys and Carly stops singing. Three groans loudly and slumps further into the seat. "... Don't you want to see Eight, at least?"

"I saw her this morning. I can live."

She snorts. "What, are you sick of her already? It hasn't even been a month."

"I- No, I just..." Three sighs. "... I really fucking think I'm going to kill her moms. Her... Fake moms. Marina's fucking _younger _than her. Her mom and shitty sister, or... No, are they dating? I think they're dating. Do you know if they're dating? Maybe I should ask... Fuck, what if they're not, then I'll look fucking creepy, and, _ugh, _can we please chill in here for ten years?"

"... Man, you really fucking hate them, huh?" Three nods. "I've seen you ramble like this exactly... Like, ten times in twelve years of knowing you?" That's an exact number. Does... Does Four fucking keep note of her nervous goddamn rambling? What the shit. That's fucking weird, like, Marie has her Agent 4 Factopedia, does Four have an Agent 3 Factopedia? God, that's an awful idea, Three would rather die than have her own Factopedia, like, not that she hates herself, okay, she does, but like she's not, like, _obsessed _with herself, y'know?, and that would be fucking. Weird. As shit. Shit and ass. Shass. Shiass. Like Four _definitely _knows enough about her to make a Factopedia and oh fuck, aw tits, would she make a page based off her nightmarish middle school years? God. If she fucking does, Three is either ending it or legally changing her name and moving to... Fucking _somewhere. _An- "Summer. Summer, you're doing it again."

"What?"

"You nervous-mumble your thoughts sometimes. It'll be _fiiiine, _c'mon. It's one day." Four gives her a smile. "You know how many days you've lived through already?"

"A fe-"

"Six-thousand and ninety-three." What the fuck. Why the fuck do you know this. What the absolute turtle ass. "... Look, I keep track of shit, okay?"

"Do..." Her voice is small. Much smaller than she wants it to be. "Do I have a Factopedia..?"

"... Well, I wouldn't call it that," Four states and Three feels her ink run cold. "But where do you think Marie got the idea from?"

She's sure she looks nothing short of fucking _horrified._

"Whyyyyy don't we," Three starts, hastily unbuckling her seatbelt and scrambling for the car door, "Go and say hello to everyone?"

"I thought you wanted to stay in here?"

"People change," she replies hastily, slamming the door shut behind her. Four yells something at her that she doesn't catch, but she flips her off either way.

Four gets out of the car and calls, "God, you're such an asshole sometimes!"

"Sometimes?" she shoots back with a sharp laugh.

"All the time!"

"Yeah, can't argue with that." Three stops walking to let Four catch up to her. "So... Like, what are you doing, exactly..?"

"Eh, I'm gonna take Eight shopping. Buy a decoration or fifty that she likes, some snacks or a movie or something, uh... A gift, maybe. You want me to pick something up for you?"

"Uh... No, it's fine. We're just planning it today, right? I don't care how fucking powerful those lesbians are, there's no way in fuck that thing's gonna also be today. I can just pick something up for her tomorrow." Four shrugs and makes a very neutral noise of acknowledgement.

They reach the door and Three absolutely ignores the knocker and decides to just knock using her fist as loudly as possible. Four winces.

"Won't that brui-"

"Bruising is for pussies," she replies, mashing the doorbell after two seconds. "So I don't do it."

Someone inside yells "COMING!" but the house doesn't fucking quake where it stands, so it's probably Marina. Just to be an ass, Three presses the doorbell once more.

The door opens and they're greeted by Marina, who is noticeably out of breath.

"Hi," she breathes. "Come in!"

They walk in, and Three remains relatively neutral towards all the fancy fucking decor while Four absolutely loses her shit.

"Dude," she whispers. "Is that a fucking gold-plated Splattershot?"

Marina nods. "Pearl, um... She's rich." No shit. "Do you want me to go get Eight for you?"

"Yeah," Three replies, shifting slightly and pulling out her phone. Checking the time, it's a wonderful 12:54. She should have fucking stayed in the damn car. God, just _being _here fucking sucks. It's so fucking _rich. _

Marina pulls out her phone and dials her - fucking _dials _her, what the hell? - and starts talking in rapidfire Octarian. Three understands exactly none of it. Marina sighs and says one last thing and then hangs up.

"She'll probably be down in five minutes or so," she tells them. "Gods, I hope she doesn't hurt herself..."

"... Why would she?" Three asks, narrowing her gaze. Is Eight... Okay?

"She's just excited to see you again. I don't think she has in a month or so."

"Oh, yeah... I've been pretty busy with Ranked tournaments, my bad." She laughs a little. "It'll be nice to see her again! I think the last time we got together, like, just as the two of us, was... Before she started dating Su- Three."

"Ooh, I remember your matches! We did commentary for a few of them!" Marina presses her hands to her face with a large smile. "Aaaah, that last match in the Starfish Tourney was really fun!"

"Hell yeah, it was a pretty good match," Four agrees, grinning. "But of course we'd win. No one can beat the Calamari Crew!" Quietly, she adds, "I came up with the name when I was fifteen, okay..?"

Marina nods. "Oh, I understand! I like the name, though. It adds charm! And, say... You took a break a few months back, right? Was that because of the NSS?"

Four visibly tenses and Three decides it's time to intervene.

"Yes, it was, but really, can you talk some other time? Please?" She takes Four's hand, balled into a fist, and gives it a gentle squeeze. "So, uh, Four. How long will you have Eight?"

"Uh..." She pauses. "I don't know. A few hours, maybe? Why?"

"... Not sure. Maybe we wanted to make it a surprise, or something."

Marina's face lights up again. "Oh, that's a really good idea! I like that! But, um, aren't you taking her to go pick out decorations and stuff?"

Four swears quietly. "I'll, uh... Keep her busy, if anything?"

Marina nods. "Sure, sure!"

Phew. Three does _not _want to deal with the Four Joined The NSS Shitshow right now.

Before any of them could continue, Three hears loud thudding down the stairs. Looking over, she sees Eight absolutely fucking booking it. It is immediately followed by a loud yell from Pearl, presumably, and Eight yells something back. That being said... She isn't nearly as loud.

Four beams and gives her a wave, while Three smiles. Oh, hey, Eight isn't wearing Three's jacket for once. That's neat. It probably smells like shit. How often does Eight even wash the damn thing anyways? Like, sure, it smells like Three, but it also smells like ass. Should she just buy a new hoodie and wear it around for a bit to let Eight steal? Is that weird? That's probably a little weird.

Fucking... Whatever. Three can fucking worry about that some other time. There's an entire fucking party to plan (Fuck you, Four) and Three will see that through to either its end or _her _end.

God, she just hopes it turns out alright.

* * *

**chapter 3 might be delayed, im unsure. probably should have said this earlier, but i post snippets of upcoming chapters on my tumblr. its h-roshot, for those wondering.**


	8. 2-3 Eight buys a dumb hat

Nngh. Today hasn't been the best, and it's barely 12:50. Stupid parties and junk. Eight's not really sure what a party even _is_ \- movies make them out to be, like, loud and flashy and full of substances of various legalities, but how do you even plan that? And, you know, why would you _want_ that? It just seems like a lot, in her opinion.

But what does Eight know, right? And on a much more unrelated thought, what even is the legal drinking age in Inkopolis, anyways? Back in the Domes, she thinks it was twenty-five or so, but Pearl has wine in the kitchen that she uses to cook with, and Pearl's only twenty-one...

Speaking of, Pearl kinda ran off the moment they got home. Probably something to do with the party, because she'd been a little antsy ever since Eight mentioned it. She's not really sure _why, _still, since it was pretty apparent they forgot about her and it's fine, honestly! Eight doesn't really remember what a party is, so it's not like she really misses it, and... Judging by the movies, she's not missing much.

... Well, okay, it still kind of stings. Sure, Pearl and Marina have been busy, yes, but-

Her phone rings.

{Hello?} she answers, not bothering to check the caller.

_{Eight, hey!}_ Oh, it's Marina. Speak of the devilfish, maybe? _{Yeah, um... Three and Four are here.}_

{Oh, are they?} Eight checks the time - it's not even 12:55 yet. They're early, she guesses, and... Well, Eight's not the readiest. {You said Four's taking me out, right?}

_{Mhm, and we're keeping Three here.} _Eight nods. _{Come down whenever you're ready, okay?}_

{Um... Marina? What do I... Wear?} she asks. As it stands, she isn't really dressed to meet them. Or, um, she isn't very dressed in the first place. To be honest, Eight's only wearing a pair of shorts since she threw Three's hoodie in the wash. {It's not a formal outing, right?}

_{Oh, Eight...} _Despite not being able to see her, Eight pictures Marina shaking her head as she sighs. _{It's not, don't worry. Just, y'know, be clothed, 'kay? See you soon!} _Without another word, Marina hangs up.

Eight sighs. She loves her and all, but wow, she's awful at clarifying things. Pearl talks... A bit much when she's on the phone. Marina talks too _little _and it sucks!

Well... Whatever! Eight will just. Wear clothes, or something. Yeah. Take that. ... Even though Three probably wouldn't mind if she walked down like this. Once Three walked in on Eight changing and she turned such a lovely shade of marigold and only spoke in awkward stammers for the next, um... Hour. But, well, she just feels it's probably not appropriate to just walk out with a pair of shorts on. And... Eight's going out with Four today, right? Four probably would appreciate Eight wearing clothes. ... Then again, maybe not.

With a small sigh, Eight gets up and starts digging through her dresser to find... Something. Anything. She settles on a tank top because it almost goes with her shorts and she doesn't feel like changing out of them. And... Y'know, boots have never betrayed Eight. Sneakers - or tennis shoes, if you're Three - make her feet feel... Naked. Is that the right thing to say? Maybe not. Sandals are _dumb. _There's nothing like a nice pair of boots, after all. Just a nice, good pair of clunky boots. Clomp clomp and such.

She quickly checks that her belongings are in her bag before throwing it over her shoulder and leaving the room.

Eight walks down the stairs at a brisk pace, which Pearl probably doesn't like because she yells at her to slow down. {Sorry!} she yells back, not especially sorry at all.

Sure enough, Marina, Three, and Four are all downstairs, waiting. Four waves at her and Three grimaces.

"Oh, there you are," Marina says. "... You're wearing _that?"_

"... Yes," Eight responds slowly. "Why?"

"It's a little cold out, that's all. Do you have a jacket or something?"

Eight shakes her head. "No, it's in the wash."

"Eight, are you telling me you didn't think of buying any jackets at all while we were shopping?" Marina furrows her brow. Ugh. Marina can be such a _Nurser_ when she wants to be. At least Pearl's, like, casual about it.

"I'm _sorry _no one thought to explain _seasons _to me," Eight snaps. "You know Dome temperatures are regulated..." She glances over at Three and Four. Four looks a little amused while Three is some mix of angry and _flabbergasted._ It's kind of funny, she must admit.

"Are you _shitting_ me?" Three growls. "I'm literally- My fucking _name_ is a season, you didn't think to fucking explain that?"

"... Um, Three?" Eight asks quietly. She looks over. "What... What _is _your name?"

"You never fucking told he-"

"Shit!" Three swears, cutting Four off. "Yeah, it's, uh. It's Summer."

"Wait. That was _you?_" A week or so ago, Eight stopped by Oceanside Café, hoping to find Three there. And, well, she wasn't - or, Eight _thought_ she wasn't - but the barista there was, um... Quite, uh... Touchy-feely? Is that even the way to describe it? Maybe not. Maybe just flirty, or something like that. She was also familiar in a way Eight couldn't place. She also wrote _Do you want to go out for dinner tonight? - Summ3r _on it and oh, what the _fuck, _she wrote- She wrote Summ**3**r on it. Fucking. Eight thought she wrote the 'E' backwards or something, but- Dear Gods. Three also seemed _very _amused when Eight told her about it later that day, but... "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Eight, I couldn't have made it more fucking obvious! I- Literally the only things I changed were my ink color and putting my tentacles up in a bun. That's- That's fucking _it." _She rolls her eyes, struggling to fight the grin off her face. "You... I was literally wearing the same thing as the time we made out on my couch."

"_Which_ time?"

"The _first_ one!"

Four and Marina share a glance.

"Are... Are you hearing this?" Four mumbles.

Marina sighs. "Yeah."

Eight sighs dramatically and glares at _Summer,_ who's grinning in a manner that can only be described as shit-eating. "You're such a jerk."

"Why am I a jerk? It's not my fault you can't recognize my face." She shifts, checking something on her phone before shoving it back into her pocket. "Seriously, you're always talking about how pretty my eyes are and then you can't recognize me with a different hairstyle."

"... I mean, I thought it was you until you spoke." Eight rubs at her arm. "Your voice was too lively, so..."

Four laughs loudly. "Fuck, really? That's- That's so on-brand, I- Holy shit..."

Three's face flushes as a ripple of green spreads from the tips of her tentacles. "I- Fuck you."

"Maybe later," Eight replies without thinking about it. Three sputters wildly. "Um, so... Not to change the subject or anything, but what are we doing, exactly?"

"Well," Marina starts with a small sigh, reminding everyone of her presence, "You and Four are going... Out. Shopping for decorations and the like, I guess? I'm not too sure."

Four nods. "Yeah, yeah. It'll be fine. You guys are working on the everything else, right?"

"Mhm." Marina nods. "Do you know what time you should be back?"

"Eh." Four makes a so-so motion with her hand. Eight decides that it means none of this was actually planned. "Maybe 4:00, maybe 5:00? I'll call you when we're about to come back."

"Oh, alright! I think that should be enough time..." Marina types something on her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. Now that Eight thinks about it, everyone seems to have pockets. If only someone explained seasons to her, but she doesn't _care_ why would she care, that's right, she doesn't, because she has _never_ cared _**EVER **__**BWAHAHAHA**_.

(Eight cares profusely.)

"Yeah, sure. We'll see you around." Four gives them a small wave.

"Don't fucking crash the car because you're too busy listening to Carly," Three grumbles. Who... Who is Carly? "And, uh, Eight. Have fun, I guess." A few muddy brown blotches form at the ends of her tentacles. Too bad Eight has no idea what they might mean. Three does look a little angrier than usual, so Eight opts to give her a farewell hug.

"I'll see you later, Summer," she coos into her ear. Three responds by briefly choking on air. Eight pulls away. "... Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fuckin'- Fucking peachy, thanks." She coughs twice into her hand and then makes an 'OK' sign. "I'll. Yeah. Have. Have fun."

Marina cocks an eyebrow. "Ummmm, right... Stay safe, please? Have fun, don't break the law." She grows more serious as she tells Eight the last part. {And... Please don't hurt anyone, okay? Promise me that.}

Eight fights the urge to roll her eyes. {Yes, Marina, I promise I won't kill or seriously injure anyone. You... You know I haven't in a while.}

She sighs. {I... Yes, okay, but...} Marina shakes her head. "Just- Please be careful."

"Right." Eight turns to a very visibly confused Four. "So... Are we going?"

"I, uh- Yeah. We'll... See you around, I guess?" Four starts heading to the door. Eight follows her. "Bye..!"

Three and Marina call one last goodbye at them before they leave.

"So, uh..." Four fishes for her keys in her bag. "... What was that about?"

"It's stupid," Eight mumbles. "She's just worried about stupid things. I don't think she understands that..." She sighs, digging her claws into the palm of her hand. "Don't worry about it, okay?" Eight tries her best to smile convincingly at Four. She's sure it doesn't reach her eyes, but Four buys (or pretends to) it at the very least. "If you don't mind me asking... Who is Carly?"

Four pauses and furrows her brow as she unlocks her car. "... Oh! Oh, Carly Mantaray. She's a music artist that Three hates since she 'is just another overproduced garbage pop sensation' or whatever." She rolls her eyes as she gets in. "I don't think she can listen to anything that isn't classic rock or metal."

"... Why would that make you crash the car?"

"I... Get enthusiastic." Four clears her throat. "Anyways, you wanna hit up Arowana or The Reef first?"

"Hit..?" Preferably, Eight would enjoy hitting neither with a car. "... I'm sorry?"

"Oh, uh... Which would you rather go to first, I mean." Oh. Ohhhh. Okay. That makes sense.

"Whichever one is closest, I guess?" Four nods absentmindedly and puts the keys in the ignition. The moment she does, some pop song starts _blasting _and Eight shrieks.

"Shit! Shit, sorry, sorry, are- Are you okay?" She turns it down until it's barely audible. Eight gives her a look that's part fury, part malice, part "what the hell" and gives her a thumbs-up. "Sorry, sorry..."

"Why," Eight says after a ten-second pause, "Are you playing music so loud?"

"... I'm gay?" she offers. Eight gives her a thumbs-down. "Yeah, I... I can't argue with that."

She takes a deep breath. "Which one is closest?" she asks instead of punching her.

"The Reef, I think." Four finally starts driving. Eight turns to look out the window.

_Warm ink, underneath my skin,_

_Warm ink, my hearts are pumping,_

_Warm ink, underneath my skin,_

_Warm ink, my hearts are pumping..._

* * *

It doesn't surprise Eight that they got lost. The only surprise is how long it takes them to get there. (Which, for those wondering, is twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds, but hey, who's counting?) The Reef itself happened to only be a whopping five minutes away, but at least Eight now knows all the lyrics to Warm Ink.

"So..." Four's voice trails off as she looks up a map of the shops. "We're close to Party Atlantis right now. All the stores are open till 5:30, so we have time."

Eight nods, looking around. The last time she was at The Reef was, um... A while ago. A pretty long while ago. (That is, if you count the actual location. The replicas used for turfing in Deca Tower were frequented by her, if frequented meant 'she went there two weeks ago because she didn't feel like being left alone at the house.') "What kind of things do they sell there?"

"Like... Party decorations and stuff. That's probably not super helpful, but that's, like, the only way I can describe it." Party decorations and stuff. Wow, Eight wouldn't have ever guessed. "Oh, and since Splatoween is soon, there's costumes and stuff for sale. They're pretty cheap, though."

"... Splatoween?" Eight's heard the term tossed around a bit, but she never actually bothered to look into it. "What is that?"

"Originally, I think it was a tradition to keep the Elder Gods away, or something? Now it's a holiday that's roughly two days long. You dress up and parade around town, and you can get candy and stuff. That, or you could be a bitch and trick people." She shrugs. "I'm not super religious, so..."

"The Elder Gods?" she repeats. "In the Domes, our religion was centered around them. Are they, like, bad here?"

"... Well, I don't really think I'm the person to ask, but..." Four thinks for a moment. "They're not necessarily bad. I don't really know what they stand for, though. In Atramentos, the religion's mainly centered around Tatzelwurm, Akkorokamui, and Banaspati. They're, like, the big three, I guess."

"... The Elder Gods were centered around the arts, I think. We mainly worshipped Cthulhu. He was the god of music and literature. Or, no, that... That was the Ravine, I think..?" Eight pauses to think. "... It's hard to remember."

"That's... Interesting. We think of him as a chaos god up here, if I remember correctly." She sighs. "Now that I think about it, it's probably due to racism from the Great Turf War." Yeah. That makes sense. They approach the Party Atlantis. The sign is in a happy, rounded font, although it flickers slightly. It also looks pretty packed. "So. We're here!"

Eight gently grabs Four's hand. "Crowds," she mumbles, and Four nods. "Sorry."

"It's cool. I understand." After grabbing a basket, Four leads her through the sea of people. How could a store even fit so many? Maybe they picked a bad time to do this... Eight thinks she sees a few Splatoween decorations. One is a skeleton of some kind of fish. The other is the most anatomically incorrect inkling she's ever seen, mostly because it's... A skeleton. Inklings (all cephalopods, actually) kind of have exactly zero bones, let alone enough to make a skeleton out of. Some child squeals and asks its caretaker to buy it. She tells it no, and it starts wailing. Four and Eight start walking a little faster.

Turning the corner, Four briskly walks down the aisle and stops at the very back of the store. It's a little less crowded here, although the child is still sobbing.

"Welcome to the sad party decoration section! Take your pick," Four announces while striking a dumb pose. Eight blinks, then looks at Four, and then over at the wall of stuff, and then back at Four.

"I don't know what any of this is," Eight deadpans. Four's face flushes.

"Ah. Shit. Right, uh." Clearing her throat, she picks up a pack of something... Rubber. "These are balloons. You can blow them up with air and knock 'em around a bit, but then they pop and they're not very useful after that." She puts them back. "I wanna get the helium ones."

"Helium..? I don't understand, what's the difference?" Balloons are balloons, aren't they? Or- No. This is the surface. So... Of course not. They're probably like blasters, as in there are fifteen hundred million of them and each and every single of them suck. That, or they're like... Eight doesn't know, most shooters? As in... Utterly redundant and unnecessary? Ah, but... Blasters are shooters, right? ... Whatever.

"Helium ones float. Ones with air in them just kinda... Sit there." Oh. Oh! That makes sense. That makes them exactly not like blasters or shooters at all, because there is a clearly defined better one. "Also, if you suck the helium out of them, your voice gets high-pitched and funny. Don't worry, you can't get high off it." She chuckles darkly. "I've tried."

"... What?" One: Is helium safe..? Two: What does 'getting high' even mean, and why would Four try it? "I- _What?_"

"Did Off the Moms not explain that to you, either?" Eight shakes her head 'no.' "Damn. What are they even teaching you..?" She clears her throat. "Well... Maybe it's better that you don't know."

"Is it... Bad..?"

"Again, I don't think I'm the person to ask, but..." Four pauses and looks Eight over. "... For you, probably. Can't really say."

"Oh, is it sort of like being drunk?" she asks. Four's eyes briefly widen and then she nods. "... Cool. I don't think I'm old enough to drink."

"... Aren't you nineteen?" Eight nods. "Yeah, no, you're old enough. What was the age down there?"

"Twenty-five." Four whistles lowly. "That was also the average life expectancy, but... No correlation, right?"

"Goddamn..." Four puts the balloons back on the shelf. "Well, uh... Here." She snatches a bag of... Cones? "These are party hats."

"That's a traffic cone, Four. Don't lie to me." Four shakes the package a little. "It doesn't matter how much you shake them, they're still traffic cones."

Four looks over her shoulder briefly before tearing the package open. She pulls a cone out. It seems... Cheap. Just a sad roll of paper with a little tinsel at the top and an elastic string at the bottom. "Come here." She sets the rest of them in the basket they grabbed before holding the cone with both hands. Eight gingerly steps forward. At this proximity, Eight gets a better look at Four's face than she probably has... Ever. And, well, she's... Attractive, maybe. Probably not her type, but... Pretty. In a... Familiar way..? Four fumbles with the cone as she tries to put it on Eight, who isn't exactly helping her... But she's not _not _helping, either! Her eyes trail lower down Four's face, and they stop at her lips. "... Four?"

"Yeah?" she replies "What's up?"

Eight taps at her lower lip, claw poking at the small indent in it. "What's that scar from?"

Four's face turns dark sea-green _immediately _as she steps back and trips on the basket, landing on her ass. "There isn't a scar there," she responds quickly, covering it with her hand. "No scar. You're seeing things."

Eight looks down at her, sprawled out on the dirty floor of the Party Atlantis. Gingerly, she holds out a hand to help her up. Four shakily grabs it. "... Sorry," Eight mumbles. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I, um- No, it's, it's fine, I guess, I just, y'know, we all have dumb scars, yeah?, well, uh, this one, isn't dumb, it, I got punched. By Three. Yeah. Mhm," she stammers, dusting herself off. "ANYWAYS, why don't we look for more shit?"

Eight taps the cone on her head. "... Is this not enough?"

"We need _streamers, _Eight." She rolls her eyes. Scanning the shelf, she grabs a pack of... Something. "These babies."

"... Babies..? I thought they were streamers."

"Yeah, they are. It's- Language is dumb." Eight nods. Four can be smart when she wants to be. "I dunno if we'll actually use them, but we should get some just in case. What color is your favourite?"

"Uh..." Eight doesn't really have a favourite. It used to be everything except Kamabo green, but Four's ink is already pretty close to it in hue, so she's started liking it a bit more. Theoretically, blue is the warmest ink, but that movie _sucked._ It sucked _so bad._ Eight got a little over halfway through, then Pearl walked in during a sex scene, which Eight apparently wasn't supposed to be watching straight-faced and fully clothed. _"What... What are you watching there..?"_ she asked. _"A movie," _Eight replied. _"It's boring. Do you need me for anything?"_ So Pearl asked her to help with dinner and Eight would have preferred to do anything that wasn't watching the remaining hour and a half of Blue is the Warmest Ink, so she followed her downstairs and that was that. That being said... Eight doesn't hate blue, either. She just hates that specific movie. "I don't have a preference."

"Rainbow, then?" Eight nods. Four carelessly tosses it into the basket. "Cool beans."

"... What else do we need?" Eight asks, looking over at the Wall of Party Stuff. The Wall of Party Stuff is actually colorfully bland, if that makes any sense. Another child starts crying in the background. Fun. "Should we get some Splatoween things?"

"Mmh... Maybe? I don't know, are you going to celebrate?"

"I might. I don't know." They start walking down another aisle. The walls are continually stocked with colorful (albeit forgettable) items. Eight reads some of the packages as they walk by. Werewolf Mask, Vampire Fangs, Mummy Costume (Ages 6+)... "What are all of these?"

"Oh, those are Splatoween costumes. Kids dress up in them and then they go candy collecting. I mean, it's not entirely for kids, but... Those are."

"They... Sell adult Splatoween costumes as well?" The entire tradition seemed a tad... Childish, in Eight's humble opinion. "Why..?"

"Er- You know how there's that cultural obsession with making literally everything sexy, right?" Eight pauses then nods. "Yeah. They have it all... Last year I found some sexy Squid Sisters costumes. Now that I actually know them, maybe I should bribe Three into wearing one with me." She grins at Eight. "I'd make a _wonderful_ ass-out Callie, right?"

What does that mean.

"What does that mean?" Eight asks. Four sighs dramatically (although in a fundamentally different way than Three) and shakes her head.

"You'll see," she replies. "You'll see."

Needless to say, Eight is terrified.

By the end of their shopping excursion, they had a basket filled with Stuff. And the Stuff was important because Four said it was. Four also pulled up a picture of the sexy Squid Sisters costumes and Eight absolutely _lost it_ at the thought of Three wearing the Marie one. On the way to the checkout line, Eight snagged an anatomically incorrect inkling skeleton. It was awful and sad and Eight _loved _it.

Speaking of awful and sad things, that crying child from before never actually stopped. Eight awkwardly steps around its crying form on the ground.

"Four?" Eight asks quietly, squeezing her hand gently to get her attention. "Are all children, um... Like that?"

She thinks for a moment. "... In a way, I guess so. In others, probably not. I know I was. My brother, though? Not so much."

"You have a brother?" Four nods. "How old is he?"  
"Same age as me. We're identical twins."

"Oh, twins? I didn't know those were a thing."

She nods again. "Yeah, we came from the same egg and everything. It's just him, though. Guess our parents couldn't handle another gremlin. He was the jock, and I was the gay kid." Eight snorts. "What, it's true! He's really nice, though, even if he thinks baseball is a respectable sport. He'd stick up for me when people gave me shit. I should give him a call soon..."

"Why would they?"

Four shrugs. "I'm trans and people suck." Well, that makes sense. Eight thinks she vaguely remembers Marina mentioning Four being trans and how she admired her for being open about it. She asked her why she couldn't just be open about it too, and Marina sighed and said that it was complicated. "Still! I don't get any now, or... Y'know, not as much, _and _my face is on a t-shirt, so who's the real loser here?" She laughs and smiles at Eight. Eight can tell it's fake. "Um... Yeah. So..."

"... Why didn't you tell me your face is on a shirt?" Four pauses and then starts laughing. "I'd totally wear it!"

"It was a promo thing. We were in the top 10 for popularity for a bit, but..." She sighs. "Everyone just kinda... Stopped caring. Like, my team, I mean. Neuros, Spear, both kinda stopped giving a shit. I've been meaning to look for new teammates, actually..." Four clears her throat. "Do you remember your family at all, Eight?"

Eight pauses to think. She doesn't remember much at all, really. The only memories she has from before Kamabo are small bits and pieces from the small bits and pieces that fell off the mem cakes. As it stands, all eighty of them are sitting on a shelf in her room, waiting to be eaten. "... Vaguely. I remember... Tiny things." Nothing big, nothing important. Just blips of knowledge and things like that. Things like the scent of weapon polish or the dry taste of a nutrition block, or the glowing lights that lined the walls. Things like moonlight shining down through the distant crack in the surface in Octo Ravine, things like the distant Inkling cheers that'd echo down some nights. Crickets chirping, children laughing - all so far away, all so nothing like the stone-cold clockwork routine they had in training. "... It isn't a lot to talk about."

"Mh." Four grimaces as they finally get to the point in the line where they can pay for their Stuff. "I'm sorry, Eight."

"It's fine," she tells her. "I don't miss it. I have a family here, right?"

"Yeah, you do." Four goes quiet before suddenly reaching for her phone. "Oh! Speaking of, I gotta text them..." While Four does that, Eight takes the stuff out of the basket and puts it on the... Conveyor belt? Is that really what that thing is called..?

"Hey, how are you today?" the cashier asks. They look tired.

"I'm okay, how are you?" Eight replies, fishing for her wallet in her bag. Four stops typing briefly to tap Eight's wrist.

"It's fine, Eight, I'll pay for it."

"You don't have to-"

"It's stupid for you to have to pay for your own party, isn't it?" she asks, and Eight can't really argue with that. She decides right then and there she's going to find a way to repay Four for that. "Oh, uh, do you have a preferred cake?"

Eight shakes her head 'no.' "Soft," she replies, and Four smile a little, rolling her eyes. "Uh... Vanilla, I guess?" Four nods and then types something.

"Frosting?"  
"One that isn't a condiment." Four gives her a look that can only be described as pity. "... I don't know. Something that goes with vanilla?"

She types something else, then shoves it into her bag and pulls out her wallet.

"3765 C," the cashier drones. "You have 234 C in savings."

What..? But you're still _spending _things, so... No money is actually being saved, right..?

Four slides her card in. "How do I run this as a credit?"

"Green circle."

"Okay, thanks." After doing the thing (presumably), Four pulls her card out and slips it back into her wallet in a very graceful manner. Eight usually had to fumble with hers whenever she did, but... Whatever. Grabbing the bags of Stuff, she nods at Eight. "C'mon."

Eight grabs the bag with the anatomically incorrect inkling skeleton in it and half-jogs, half-walks after Four.

Seriously... How does she even walk that fast?

Once Eight catches up to her, she gets an idea. And it's a wonderful idea, because it's Eight's idea. Well, okay, maybe it's not that great, but...

"Four?" She looks over. "Stay still." Eight sets her bag down and finds the party hat cone thingies. She pulls one out and steps closer to Four. She fumbles with it as she puts it on, and it's a little lopsided at first, but ultimately Eight gets it to look okay. "Tada! Now we match!"

Eight swears she catches Four blush slightly, but it could just be the lighting. She smiles, laughing slightly. "That's so stupid," she mumbles. "I love it."

Eight beams at her, grabbing her free hand after picking up the bag. "So... Where to next?"

"Eh..." Four pauses. "I don't know, actually. We could go to Arowana, but I don't know if we really need a whole lot there." Hm... "I kinda promised to keep you out until 4:00, right..? Uh... Wanna just, like, dick around? We kinda... Did all the shopping we needed."

"I... Sorry if this is weird, but... Can you tell me about your brother?" Eight asks as they walk further into The Reef.

Four's face lights up. "Yeah, sure! Uh, anything in particular, or..?"

"I don't think so?"

"Okay, okay... So, there was this one time in middle school, like, right after midterms, and..."


	9. 2-4 Three proves she can count

Marina sighs after Four and Eight leave. Three feels a nigh-uncontrollable urge to join her. Man. This fucking sucks. Sure, it'll probably pay off, like, tomorrow or something when the party happens, but getting there is going to _suck._

It's going to suck _so much._

Silence settles over the two. Three doesn't know how long it goes on for, she just knows that it does. Tapping her foot against the ground, she decides to start counting things in the room. Two Splattershots, three paintings, four plants...

"So..." Marina breaks the silence. Five... There aren't exactly five of any object in the room. "Um, do you want me to go tell Pearl that you're here?"

"... Yeah," Three mumbles with a sigh. "That's probably a good course of action."

Marina nods and hesitates before walking off. Now alone, Three feels, uh. Incredibly out-of-place. Without Four _or_ Eight here, who... Even is she..? Her hand trails up her neck to behind her ear where her gill slits are located, quickly finding the small piercings within them. Her fingers run over each one - three on that ear, and then she checks the other - three on that one. Six in total, and still not the five that she needs. Rolling her eyes, Three twists and turns the piercings until she feels her slits grow agitated and sore. She tugs on one accidentally, and pain shoots from her gill. It's at that point where she decides it's an okay time to stop.

The room is silent, deafeningly so. Three can't stand silence, not now, and her foot anxiously taps against the ground. _Tap-tap-tap,_ then pause for a second, then- _Tap-tap-tap._ Wait two seconds, start again. Yet her foot grows tired, and Three stops, and silence starts again.

She stops and looks at the art on the walls, all paintings of various landscapes. One is of the beach, seemingly a little newer due to the bluer hue of the water. When she was younger, Three went to the beach frequently, but the water was a murky green, sickly and rotting and acidic. She has a feeling the younger her would have loved to see the beaches of today. Maybe that would have made her grandparents a little happier - nice scenery to go with their house and not the turbulent, dangerous waters. Three starts tapping at the thought of them. There isn't any use in making her mood _worse._

Fucking... Speaking of reasons to be mad, where the hell did Marina go? She looks over at the stairs, waiting for any signs if her. And, uh... Nothing. Fucking _fantastic._ She sighs heavily and takes a seat on the carpet. There's a split-second urge to just text someone, but Marina should be back soon anyways...

Sure enough, Three hears Marina walk down the stairs, Pearl in tow.

"I'm sorry it took so long!" she apologizes with. Pearl waves behind her.

"Yo!" she greets.

It takes a lot of effort to not roll her eyes. Three waves back with her customer service smile. "Hey," she offers. "How are you?"

"Eh. I'm alright, yeah? How are you?"

"_Terrible,"_ she wants to say. "I'm good."

Pearl nods. "So... Uhhh, whaddya... Y'know?" She cocks her head.

Marina sighs and shakes her head. "Use your words, Pearlie."

"... What exactly are we doing?" she asks. Three tries her best to keep her tentacle color stable, but she's sure some part of it turns a dark, dark black. "Sorry, sorry, I-"

Three has to hold her tongue, and she closes her eyes to take a deep breath. It's one day, after all. Just one. Three can handle them for one for day, right?

"Tell me," she starts after opening her eyes, "Exactly how much progress you've made on planning?"

Pearl and Marina share a glance. Three sighs loudly.

"You have made progress, _right?"_

More silence.

"Okay," Three says in a voice that's too calm to be natural, "I'll give you ten seconds to give me a good reason as to why I should stay."

"Uh," Pearl replies eloquently, "You. No car."

Hand hovering over the doorknob, Three gives Pearl the sweetest smile she can muster.

"I can walk, dipshit."

"Fucking. I'll pay you?" Pearl offers. Marina gives her a look. It's one of vague disappointment and inward panic. Three knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of those very, very well. "Rent? Roller?"

"How much are we talking?" she asks, because that's a good fucking offer. Pearl pauses and licks her lips as she thinks, which is a little fucking gross but it also reminds Three that she should probably find her fucking chapstick soon given that she lost it. _Again._

"25,000?" Pearl says after a pause. Ooh. Tempting. That'd be enough to pay her month's rent and give her a little extra spending money. Three's hand wavers but ultimately falls back onto the knob.

"You've got bank to spare," she replies, furrowing her brow. "Little higher."

Marina mutters something beneath her breath that Three doesn't catch, but it's accompanied by an eye roll. At a much higher volume, Pearl whispers "Shut up, Reena, it's fine." Or, well, it's a whisper for Pearl, so Three has to give her some credit for trying.

"50,000 C," she says, confident. "That should be a fair amount, right?"

Ooh.

Very tempting.

"... Deal," Three says after a pause. Pearl pumps her fist while Marina just shakes her head.

"You two are..." Her voice trails off. "... Something. You're... Definitely something."

"Fuck _yeah_ we are!" Pearl exclaims with a grin. She strikes a very dumb pose.

"I cannot believe you fronted a metal band," Three mutters. Pearl narrows her gaze.

"Rude. I'm _super_ metal." Three makes a noise of an unspecified emotion. "I even got a tongue piercing. What's more fuckin' metal than a tongue piercing?"

"Tongue piercings are for sucking dick," Three mutters as she walks back over. Pearl replies with a series of gibberish because she's currently coughing. Or choking. Loser. "So, what do you need me to do?"

"Uh..." Marina casts a glance at Pearl. "Well, we were going to just push ideas around, or something? We- Or, I, I suppose- Want to know who we're inviting, what day it would happen, um... Things of that sort."

"Ignoring the fact that you haven't thought about any of this at all," Three starts, "I think you should invite Gra- Er, the Captain. You said he was there with her in the Metro, right?"

Marina nods. "Yes, I was thinking that'd be a good idea. And, um... You, obviously, and Four, since she's helping out..."

"What about the Squid Sisters?" Pearl suggests with a small cough at the end. "From, uh, from what I understand, the Calamari Inkantation is pretty important to her, so she'd probably be happy to see 'em, right?"

Huh. Yeah, that... Actually made sense. Not that Three would ever let Pearl get the satisfaction of knowing. "They're pretty busy, though," she mutters. Pearl hums softly.

"Yeah, they are, but... I'm sure we could, like, bribe 'em or something. I dunno. Maybe if we get Four to ask, or something."

"Four? Why her?" Three asks. "Like, I get that she's good with people and all, but..."

"Three, come on." Pearl rolls her eyes. "You know Marie's into her, right?"

"... Is she?" If anything, Marie's just... Fucking _meaner_ to Four than she is towards everyone else. Constantly teasing her or jokingly berating her, yet... Well, Three could see it, but at the same time... "Seriously?"

"Oh, hell yeah. Dude, you should see the shit she sends in the group chat."

1\. Three _really_ wants to see those messages.

2\. They have a fucking _group chat?_

"I, uh... I see." Well, shit, now Marie _has_ to come, if only so Three can tease her about this just like she teased Three over Eight. "I... Guess we should?"

Pearl nods. "Yeah, let's... Just hope they're not busy?"

"Oh, actually," Marina says, reminding them all of her presence, "I just asked them about it. Callie says she'd _love_ to go, and Marie just sent a, uh... A thumbs up."

Fucking Marie, always communicating in emojis and shit. "Yeah, typical," Three mutters. "Do you know when they're free?"

"Umm..." Her voice trails off as she types, claws loudly clacking against the screen. "Thursday and Friday?"

"Can we aim for Friday?" Three asks.

Marina blinks. "Sure, but... Why?"

"Four has practice on Tuesdays and Fridays, and it gives us more time to prepare for it, so..."

She nods. "Okay, I'll tell them Friday, then."

A few second pass, and then Marina speaks again. "They want to know what time."

"Uhhh..." Pearl scratches her cheek as she thinks. "Well, I mean, we gotta announce the stages in the morning. Most of it's pre-recorded except for that. We're done by 12:00, though."

"Hold on," Three mumbles, searching for her schedule on her phone. "It's the fifth, right? I get out at 4:00, and it's about a forty-five minute drive to here..."

"Would 6:00 give you enough time to be ready?" Marina asks. Three nods. "Okay! Pearlie, do you have any problems with that?"

"I don't think so?" Pearl shrugs. "Yeah, I think 6:00 is good."

Marina hums as she types. "They said they're okay with it." She smiles. "So! Um, what do you want to work on first?"

"What do you mean..?" Three says slowly.

"Like, um... Well, there's always the matter of food. The party's in two days, right? So... We could definitely start now."

"Won't it spoil?" she asks.

"Depends on what we make," Pearl replies. "And where we store it, obviously."

"Well, yeah..." Three's voice trails off. "Uh, what can you make? Eight mentioned that you like cooking..."

"What can I make?" Pearl laughs sharply. "Buddy, what _can't_ I make, is the question?"

"I am not your buddy," Three mutters, "And shit, you're about as humble as you are tall."

Pearl glares at her. Three glares back.

"You..." Pearl's voice trails off as she tries to think of a comeback. Take that, mayo gremlin. "You have dumb shoes."

Three looks down at her feet. Her shoes are worn, with stains of every single color of the rainbow splashed on them, although they were once white. "Hm... Yeah. Anyways..." She sighs. "Lemme rephrase it, I guess. What do you _want_ to make for the party?"

"Uh... Well, there's probably seven people coming, right? Or..." Pearl pauses to count. "Eight?"

"No, my agent number's Three."

Pearl rolls her eyes. "Fuck you, you know what I mean." Three shrugs. "But, yeah, eight people... I dunno if we have enough stuff here to feed all of 'em."

"... Do you want me to go and shop?" Three's hoping they say yes, and then she gets to _leave_ and experience the _hell of shopping at MakoMart._

"Once we figure out what we're making, we can go!" Marina replies and Three feels her dreams shatter. "Admittedly, I'm... Not the best chef."

Three briefly remembers Eight saying something about Marina being god-fucking-awful at cooking and nods a little. "Yeah, same." That being said, she'd never _fry the __**fucking**_ _milk,_ but... Whatever.

"Reena, babe." Pearl sighs. "You boiled cereal. And- Then I fucking saw you dump ketchup on it? Like, I- What the _hell_ were you trying to make, anyways?"

Marina rolls her eyes. "Uh, _oatmeal?"_

"You-" Pearl pauses to let out a noise of vague frustration. Three wishes she could join her. "Babe, I- Come on. We _have_ the microwavable oatmeal here? Just- Just put it in a bowl with a cup of water and pop it in for like a minute and a half?"

"We have microwavable oatmeal," Marina replies quietly after a beat of silence, "But we don't have a microwave."

"Wha-" Pearl shakes her head. "Marina, we- What do you think is above the stove?"

"The microwave." Pearl gives her the look. Marina sighs. "I- I needed some of the parts for a thing I was working on! So I took them out and then replaced it, but I think the replacement parts screwed up, um... Something, because, like, everything I put in there catches on fire and- Don't look at me like that!"

Three is trying really hard not to laugh.

Pearl takes a breath in. A breath out. A breath in again. One last exhale.

"You," she says after a decently long pause, "Are so lucky I love you."

"I ordered a new one," Marina mumbles. "It's just... It's not here yet." She furrows her brow as she thinks for a moment. "Oh! Wait, why don't I just..?" Suddenly, she whirls around and jogs up the stairs.

"Is this... Normal?" Three asks. Didn't they still have shit to do? She just fucking _ran off,_ the hell?

Pearl nods. "Unfortunately, yeah. Sometimes it's cute... Other times, it's..." She sighs, shaking her head. "We got shit to do, you know?" Oh, Three did know. And she would really, _really_ like to get that shit done, _please._ "Do you know if you or Four have any allergies?"

"Uh..." Her voice trails off as she thinks. "There's, like, some medication that I'm allergic to, but I don't think it's in any food? Or- Shit, it'd be weird if it was. And, uh... Four doesn't have any allergies, as far as I know."

Pearl makes a small noise of acknowledgement. "Alright, cool. All the things I wanna make are ones I don't make a lot, so... Come with me?" she says with a slight beckoning motion. Three resists the urge to roll her eyes and follows Pearl into the kitchen.

1: What the shit? Mega-what the shit? Why is this kitchen so big. Why do you need a kitchen this big there are _three_ people living here. Why in the sweetest, pious, reverential of gargantuan shits would you ever need a kitchen this big? This fucking room is, like, the size of Three's living room. This isn't fucking fair, what in the literal turd-gargling fuck?

2: Why do you need _three __**fucking**_ _ovens?_ Three understands she is not the best chef. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that she, quite frankly, sucks ass at cooking, and maybe she doesn't understand it, like, at all. But why does Pearl need three entire goddamn ovens? There are _three_ people living here, and Three knows for a fucking fact that Pearl bought this before Eight was even in the picture because she briefly mentioned moving on her shitty morning talkshow with Marina, like, four months ago, aka before Eight fucked off into the murder hole, so she'd be buying for, what, two people? Why would two people need three ovens? Like, okay, she _likes_ the number three and all, but you don't- Fucking. Whatever. It's FINE.

It's fine.

Three spends too much time gawking at the disgusting amount of ovens because Pearl clears her throat and nods in the general direction of the fridge. Which is. Guh. Too fucking big. What the hell. Three could probably fit two bodies in there. Is that a little gross? Doesn't fucking matter, fridges this big are also _disgusting_. Pearl fucking grabs a stool after opening the fridge doors.

"Hey, can you write this down for me?" she asks, handing Three a pen and a notepad. So Three nods because what the fuck, she can't just tell Pearl no now. "Great, thanks..."

Pearl starts rummaging through the fridge and what the SHIT. Why does she need so much mayo? So far, Three has counted five sixty-four ounce jars of mayo. Oh, wait, Pearl just set two more down. Okay. Okay, cool. This is fine. Pearl likes mayo. Shit, is that why her tentacles are white?

Pearl gets on her tiptoes to shove a few bottles of ketchup aside. (A few. A fucking _few,_ why do these people insist on having so many giant containers of condiments, what the hell?) "Salmon steaks," she finally says, so Three hastily jots it down.

"Okay," she mumbles, leaning against an oven.

"Seal butter."

Three pauses to make an absolutely fucking bewildered face at the back of Pearl's head, but she writes it down anyways. "Why seal? That's fucking expensive." And then she remembers who she's talking to. "Just get almond or soy."

"Uh," Pearl says in the "what the hell, isn't it obvious?" tone, "It tastes better? The flavour's richer, dude."

"Can you even taste the difference?" Since seals are starting to become more and more reliant on sentient caretakers, and also because they're disgustingly hard to take care of, the price for seal-milk products (which are also easier to find than, say, other authentic dairy products from whales or walrus) tend to go for about three times the price of synthetic dairies such as soy or almond. Three's tried seal cheese before, and it was, uh... An experience.

"Yeah, obviously. It's sweeter, you know?" Three hears a few bottles clink together. "Actually, write down almond butter, too. And, uh... I'd get whale if MakoMart carried it, but you gotta go to a speciality cheese shop for that." Three rolls her eyes. Of course.

"Right, my bad," she mutters, writing it down beneath the rest. "What else?"

"Uhh... Hey, check the pantry for me? Do we have any flour?" Three checks and nods. "Do we?"

"Yeah," she replies. "What do you need these for, anyways?"  
"The party," Pearl says, ever helpful. "I wanted to make some puff pastry thingies with salmon, but I don't know what they're ca- Oh, write down dill." Three does just that. Pearl starts putting the seven jars of mayo back. Once she's done, she hops down from the stool and starts rummaging through a drawer. "Garlic, too, and seal cheese... Pine nuts, too. Do you know if Four's lactose intolerant? I know a lot of people are, so I'm just wondering..."

"She... Wasn't the last time I checked," Three offers. Pearl makes a small noise and continues rummaging.

"Raspberries." What? "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

"You better." Is she putting the raspberries with the salmon, or..? "What's that for?"

"I think I wanna make a sauce with it? That or I can mix it with chocolate and make some tarts... That or it could be, like, a cake topping - write down two containers for it, please - but I dunno if Eight likes 'em or not... Shit, I should've asked."

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah! Yeah, that'd be great, actually."

Setting the notepad down, Three pulls her phone out from her pocket.

**You, 1:14 PM:** Hey 8 do you like raspberries?

**Eight, 1:15 PM:** I think so? Why?

**You, 1:15 PM:** Pearl wants to know

**You, 1:15 PM:** How are things there?

**Eight, 1:16 PM:** Oh okay, then yes, I like them

**Eight, 1:16 PM:** Four got lost

**Eight, 1:16 PM:** I'm so sick of this song, Three

**Eight, 1:17 PM:** I think I'm in Hell

She laughs quietly. "She said yeah," Three tells Pearl, who nods.

**You, 1:17 PM:** And I cannot control it~! The way your making me feel

**Eight, 1:17 PM:** Three no

**You, 1:17 PM:** And you have got me going spinning in circles round your warm ink

**Eight, 1:18 PM:** Give me one good reason why I shouldn't block you

**You, 1:18 PM:** My scrambled eggs are somewhat edible

"Lemon... Write down flour anyways, because I don't know if we'll have enough."

**Eight, 1:18 PM:** ...Fine :( But only because of that

**You, 1:18 PM:** What not because of my nice ass?

**Eight, 1:19 PM:** Eh

**Eight, 1:19 PM:** Four's is nicer

"Shrimp and coconut."

**Eight, 1:19 PM:** Like obviously I still like you more, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea or anything but

**Eight, 1:19 PM:** It's... Nice.

**You, 1:20 PM:** No

**You, 1:20 PM:** No your right

**You, 1:20 PM:** Its kind of unfair to be honest

**Eight, 1:20 PM:** Yeah... She has to be bad at something, right?

"Pineapple."

**You, 1:21 PM:** She can't cook and can't sing but I'm sure you know the last 1 by now

**Eight, 1:21 PM:** Gods, do I ever

"What do you need pineapple for?"

"It's nice to have. Oh, write down flatbread and tomato sauce, I don't feel like making my own."

"You're making pizzas?" Three asks. "Won't that be a lot?"

"The leftovers won't go to waste," she replies, and Three accepts her answer. "Oh, and just write down toppings, please? Whenever Reena finishes dismantling her... Whatever, we can go."

Pearl finally closes the drawer and closes the fridge, dusting her hands off. "So, uh..." Pearl sighs. "I guess we wait."

"... Yeah." Three drums her fingers against the oven. "Oh, um... You and Marina are dating, right?"

Pearl nods, taking a seat on the stool. "Yeah. We're not public about it for, uh... Kinda obvious reasons, but... We are, yeah. It hasn't been too long, but... Why?"

"Maybe this is, like... Kinda weird, but... Does your mouth ever get, like, tingly after you kiss?" Pearl blinks and gives Three a look. "No? Okay, sweet."

"What," Pearl deadpans and then shakes her head. "I- What do you mean by tingly?"

"Like... The tingly feeling when your foot's asleep but not totally numb?"

Pearl's brow furrows as she thinks. "... No," she says. "I've never felt that before in my life. Maybe ask Marina about it-" Her voice increases in volume. "- WHENEVER SHE COMES DOWN."

"Sorry!" she hears Marina yell back.

Three rolls her eyes with a small smile. "Alright, I'll... Be sure to ask, I guess."

"And, uh... Sorry if this kinda personal, but... Eight doesn't hurt you, does she?" Pearl asks, voice serious.

What?  
"I- No, why?" She narrows her gaze. "Is she _supposed_ to?"

Pearl sighs. "No, it's... I don't know. Fucking Kamabo, man, it... It was really fucked up." Three nods. "And, you know, since she doesn't really remember things from... Before that, we just kinda, like... We worry, yeah? We've been trying to point her in the right direction and, like... Fix _that,_ but... Learning your morals from a death factory, it... It's not the best. And we just want her to be happy, and we don't want her to, like... You know. And... Fuck, I don't even think _Eight_ knows, but Reena's found some shit on... On _before,_ that she doesn't mention, and it- It really explains it all, you know? Or, some of it, and I think, even though her memories are gone, they're not gone, they're just repressed and subconsciously they're still, like, there, and-" Pearl takes a deep breath. "I don't know. Sometimes... I see octolings that flinch or shy away when they see her, and I know she doesn't know why they do, but, like... I know, and... I know they have, or... Or _had_ a reason to, and... We just... We don't want her to turn out to be like that again."

... Oh. That's... That's a lot. "I... See. Um..." Fuck, what does she even... Say? Three doesn't think Eight would really... Hurt her, but... It's nice to know. Maybe..?

"Sorry," Pearl mumbles, rubbing her eye. "You probably shouldn't worry. From what I've seen, she's... Been fine. I think we've done a good job with it all, anyways. At... At least, I hope so."

Three can remember fighting Eight. Or... Fighting not-Eight, because she hadn't fallen yet. She remembers the Captain telling her to be very careful, because Eight was dangerous. Three didn't really understand until Three shot at her.

She moved fast. Much faster than any other octoling she fought beforehand, with unpredictable, sporadic movements. Three remembers her yelling at Three the entire time. She didn't speak the language, but she knew Eight was furious.

There was something strange about her ink, because it _burned._ It stung and it burned like liquid fire, and every hit Eight landed slowed Three down while each one Three landed barely seemed to affect her.

She remembers Eight's fist crashing into her stomach. She remembers crying out in pain, and she remembers Eight's grin - all edges, all points. She remembers the dizzying blow to the head she got from Eight's elbow, and how the world span around her. She remembers Eight's claws digging into her neck as she strangled her and how each frantic scratch at Eight's face barely seemed to faze her.

Three remembers Eight's laugh, as harsh and as sharp and as _terrifying_ as her smile.

"You lose," she breathed, and Three distantly recalls seeing the light of the Captain's Bamboozler lining up with Eight's temple.

Three's lucky the ground gave out when it did, because she doesn't think she would have lived.

Her head hurts.

"Yeah," Three breathes, digging her nails into her palm. "Yeah, I- I think you've done alright with it."

"Did..." Pearl's voice is small, smaller than it should be. "Did you know Eight from before?"

She nods. "It... It wasn't pretty." Three clears her throat and slightly shakes her head. "Yeah, uh, anyways, um... You... Have you been making any new music, or..?"

Pearl doesn't question the sudden change in subject. "Eh. I've got some lyrics I've been writing, but it's not quite _right_ yet. I don't think we'll produce another song this yeah, but... Why, do you like our stuff?"

"I'm more of a rock fan myself," Three mumbles, hand moving to behind her ear to mess with her gill piercings. "Wetallica, Led Submarine, y'know."

"Shit, you listen to Wetallica, too? They're _so_ much better than Wet Korn, right?" Three nods. "God, whenever I get a chance, I'll show you my albums. They sound so _fucking_ good on vinyl, man. What's your favourite song?"

"Oh, definitely Battery." Pearl grins, nodding. "But Whiplash isn't bad, either. All their songs kinda fuck, you know?"

"_Hell_ yeah, do I know!" She air-guitars the opening riff while poorly mocking the guitar. "LASHING OUT THE ACTION, RETURNING THE REACTION, WEAK ARE RIPPED AND TORN! A! WAY!" She meets Three's gaze with a doggish grin. Yeah, fuck it.

"Hypnotizing power, crushing all that cower! Battery is here to stay!" Three sings, and she's not really that great at it, like, at all, but who the hell cares? Four isn't here to give her shit and Pearl is literally the only Wetallica enthusiast she's found in like, close to nineteen years of living, besides that one guy that was in her history class in ninth grade whose name she can't remember.

"SMASHING THROUGH THE BOUNDARIES-" "- Lunacy has found me!" "CANNOT STOP THE BAT-TER-RY!" At that, both of them begin aggressively air-guitaring while shittily imitating the guitars.

"What," says Marina, "Are you two doing?"

They stop mid-air-guitar. Three drops her arms immediately and leans back against the oven and pretends she never did anything in the first place.

"We're _bonding,_ Reena," Pearl says in the "it's obvious" tone. "Did you finally dismantle your... Thing?"

Marina nods, holding up a few pieces of metal. "Yeah, I did! I'll fix it when we get back, though... I don't want to hold you guys up any longer."

"Right, right," Pearl replies, brushing a tentacle out of her face. "Three, you have the list, right?" She holds it up and shakes it a little. "Nice! Yeah, okay, then I guess we're good. Reena, are you driving?"

Setting down the microwave parts, Marina holds up a set of keys and jingles them. "Mhm! But... I'm guessing you want control of the radio, right?"

"Pleeeeeeeeeaaaase?" Pearl asks, batting her eyes. Marina laughs.

"Fine, but next you drive, it's mine."

Pearl pumps her fist in the air. "Yesssssssssssssssss! Three, we're listening to the entire Wetallica discography. You know all the lyrics, right?"

"Uh, fucking _obviously?"_ Pearl cackles as she hops off the chair.

"Nice! Yeah, yeah, let's go!"

Marina rolls her eyes without a melodramatic oomph, which is honestly a lot rarer than Three thought it'd be. "You two are... Really something, huh?"

"You know it!" Pearl shoots back.

Maybe today won't suck as much as Three thought it would.

* * *

**sorry for the wait!**


	10. 2-5 Four calls someone a dolt

Walking next to her, chatting amicably about the past month, Four finds herself liking Eight more and more. In the beginning, she didn't like her at all - she was too cheery, too excitable, too _Eight. _(And, well, their first meeting hadn't been pleasant either, what with Three being concussed and delirious on the couch and all. Four grabbed Eight by the shirt and screamed at her until her voice was hoarse, and Eight didn't have anything to say for herself beyond "Sorry.")

But was Four really at fault there? She doesn't regret it, or... Well, no, she feels a little bad about it, but she doesn't think her anger was entirely unjustified. Eight was the cause of Three's many sleepless nights, the reason why Four moved from her nice apartment complex to Three's shittier, tinier one. Eight didn't directly cause all of Three's scars and her two-week-long absence, but she caused her friend pain, and Four would rather die than see Three cry again.

Well... Would friends even be the right way to describe them? They're more than friends, yet less than lovers. Whatever she is with Three, Eight interfered.

But, well, that's water under the bridge now, isn't it? Eight and Four are friends now, however rocky their start was, and that's what matters.

Right?

"So, um, Four?" Eight starts, pulling Four from her thoughts. "Are you any good at Monopoly?"

The question seems a little out-of-place, but then Four remembers that that's basically the only thing to do at Three's apartment.

"I'm okay at it," she replies. "Three usually kicks my ass, though."

Eight hums softly, nodding. "We should all play together sometime," she says. "I think it would be fun."

Four has a feeling Eight isn't very competitive at all. She can only imagine the shitshow that the three of them playing Monopoly would be; Four and Three screaming at each other until they physically couldn't any longer while Eight, like, had a panic attack in the corner over the two yelling or something. Eight seems like the type to have a panic attack the slightest sign of conflict, right? With how jittery and nervous she gets just going to places, Four couldn't imagine the girl going through the horrors described at Kamabo. If she had to guess what Eight was back in the Domes, she'd say engineer. She couldn't see Eight being much beyond that.

"Eh... Maybe." Four checks the time - a little bit past 4:00. "Oh, shit."

"Huh?" Eight blinks. "What's wrong?"

"We're like, kinda running late. It's 4:05 now, we were supposed to be back already..."

Eight's eyes widen.

"... Oh." She goes silent. "If you don't get lost, we'll be back in five minutes if we leave, um... Right now."

"Well..." Four sighs. "It's gonna take us at least ten minutes to get back to the entrance." At least, it would with all of the stuff they bought. Some of it's for the party, but most of it's just clothes she bought because they'd look cute and goddammit Four wants clothes, alright? "Then we'll load everything into the trunk, and if we don't get lost and if there isn't any traffic... We'll be back by 4:30." She's about to text Three an apology for running late when her phone buzzes in her hand.

**Three, 4:07 PM:** Keep 8 out longer

**Three, 4:07 PM:** The microwave is on fire

**You, 4:08 PM:** Oh, geez, OK

**You, 4:08 PM:** Good luck!

**Three, 4:08 PM:** Pay my bail if I kill someone okay?

**You, 4:08 PM: **OK, I'll see you soon then

**You, 4:08 PM:** Aaaaa wait

**Three, 4:09 PM:** ?

**You, 4:09 PM:** How much longer do you want us out?

Four sighs. "Or... Not."

"Who was it? What happened?"

"It's Three. She said to keep you out a little longer." Four rolls her eyes with a grimace. "I can only imagine the shitshow there."

"Well..." Eight sighs. "We kind of already shopped, right?"

**Three, 4:10 PM:** Be back at 6:00ish

**You, 4:11 PM: **OK, stay safe, don't do vegetables, eat your school, stay in drugs!

**Three, 4:11 PM:** Love you too asshat

Smiling softly, Four rolls her eyes as she slips her phone back into her pocket. "Yeah, we did, but, uh... We have, like, two hours to kill now." Shifting a little, she racks her brain to think of, like... Something to do. "So, uh... What do you, like..."

"Umm..." Eight quietly taps her foot against the ground as she thinks. "... Well, you said something about looking for new teammates, right?"

She furrows her brow slightly, watching Eight nervously drag unseen marks into the tile. "Yeah..?"

"I, um, sorry if this is weird or anything, but... I- Never mind."

... What?

"Are... Do you want to try out for a position, or something?" If Eight's blush and silence following her question means anything, Four think it's a yes. "I know I have two members that'll be delighted to go, but, uh..." If Four brought Eight up to any of them, she knows both Neuros and Spear would be racing out the door. Neither of them give a seagull's ass or any fraction of a shit, as unfortunate as it is. That'd leave them with an empty spot in their team, so... Noticing Eight's somewhat-hidden crestfallen expression, Four finds herself pitying the girl. "I don't have any problems with you joining, it's just..." She sighs quietly as they continue walking. "I have two really shitty team members, and I think they'd both leave given the opportunity, and then we wouldn't have enough members for a full team."

"Oh," is all Eight says as she continues thinking. "... What if I found a fourth member?"

Four can't fight the grin off her face once she thinks about it. "We'd have to see if they played well, but if they did..." Grabbing her phone again, she fishes through her contacts to find Dana. "Hold on," she tells Eight, who nods. "My, uh, one fucking functioning team member should be happy to hear this..." Pressing a button on her phone, she holds it up to her ear as it rings.

Eventually, Dana answers. _"Hello?"_

"Dana, hey," she greets. "Is this a bad time to talk?"

_"No, I'm free right now, why? Did something happen?"_

"You could say that," Four breathes, trying to downplay her excitement. "So, uh... You know how we've both been looking for new members?"

_"Right..." _Her voice trails off. _"Oh, did you find someone? Where'd you find them, and do you think they'll be good?"_

"Yeah, yeah, I did," she replies, chuckling slightly at her enthusiasm. "We've been friends for a month or so, but she asked me about it earlier. I've heard she plays well, if it counts." Well, not so much_plays _as it is _fights, _given that she (apparently) beat Three in a fight and then immediately _saved the fucking world, _but Dana doesn't need to know that.

_"You've only heard?" _Dana asks. Four doesn't need to see her to know she's pouting. _"I know we're desperate, but..."_

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but... You know Summer, right?" Dana makes a small noise on the other end, one that's part acknowledgement and another part mild contempt. Four knows the two don't exactly, uh... Get along, like, at _all,_ but... "Right, she apparently beat her in a one-on-one."

_"Oh?" _That caught her attention. _"I know I'm not the biggest fan of her, but... She's a damn good roller."_

Four decides to not mention the fact that Three was using her Hero Shot, which is already overpowered as hell, and the fact that shooters are Three's best weapon and she just uses rollers because swinging them makes her feel cool.

"Right," she says instead, "Have you found anyone at all?"

_"Oh! Yeah, I have." _Sweet. _"I was gonna tell you about him tomorrow since I had a feeling Spear wasn't gonna show up and we could test him out then, but... Now works, too," _Dana chirps with a laugh._"His name's Lucas and he's a pretty good E-Liter. Found him when I was playing Clam Blitz. He snapped me from across the map." _She pauses. _"Or... Well, he did a few times. We won, but I think it's only because he was with this C- kid. Even though he played so well, he apparently isn't even eighteen yet. That's kind of a trend, y'know? All those inklings with the weird hair are suuuuuper good turfers." _Weird hair..? Oh. Oh, she meant octolings. Yeah... Child soldiers would probably excel at the game. _"Anyways, what weapon does your new recruit play?"_

"Uh..." Four briefly covers the transmitter as she turns to Eight. "Hey, Eight? What weapons do you play?"

"Um... I can use all of them just fine, minus the Inkbrush. It's too flimsy." After a moment of thought, she adds, "I sort of like splatlings, though, and blasters aren't awful."

"Those are, uh... Kind of different." Eight nods. "Any others?"

"Shooters, obviously." Four hums a little.

"She uses splatlings, shooters, and blasters," she tells Dana.

_"Those aren't very similar," _Dana muses. _"Are you sure she's not just saying that?"_

"I mean, you've seen me," Four replies, adjusting the bags in her grip. "I play dualies but I can use chargers sometimes. And, well, she did beat Summer. Tatzelwurm knows she had the ink scars to show it."

_"Yeah... Okay, sure. When did you want to test them out?"_

"Like, uh... Now." Dana laughs loudly on the other end, a sharp, guttural cackle.

_"God, Sarah, never change..." _She clears her throat. _"So, I can text Lucas and see if he's free, but... If not... Y'know."_

Four nods, knowing Dana can't see it. "Sorry, I know it's short noti-"

_"Aw, are you kidding me?" _Four cocks an eyebrow. _"I've been WAITING for this day for, like, months! God, Spear's such a dick, too, and Neuros is a whiny piece of shit. I'm so excited." _She pauses. _"We're meeting at Deca, right? What time?"_

"Uh..." Four pulls her phone away to check the time - 4:15. "It'll take us like twenty-ish minutes to get to Deca, so... Wanna go for 4:45?"

_"Yeah, yeah, that's perfect!" _Four can just _hear _Dana's grin. _"Oh, and Lucas replied, he said he's ready to go whenever."_

"Awesome!" She can't help but be excited. Finally... "Yeah, we'll see you soon, then!"

_"Okay! Bye, Sarah!" _Dana hangs up after that.

Turning to Eight, Four beams. "We're doing it!" she says. "Oh, but... Do you actually have your gear and stuff?"

"Mmh... I think I have another ink tank in a locker there, since I don't like lugging one around." She pauses. "And, um... I only really have a Splattershot Jr., since I'm not a super active player, but I can just buy a weapon at Ammo Knights, right?"

She nods. "Yeah, you can, and, uh... Actually, have you bought any of the Hero Weapons?" Eight cocks her head to the side. "Since you're an agent and all, you get little perks from Ammo Knights. They're just custom versions of the normal weapons, but you should be able to get access to other weapons that you're too low-level for. Actually... That reminds me, what level are you?"

"I think I just hit twenty-seven?" Ah, so... Not very high at all. Still enough to get all of the basic weapons, at the very least. "I know I keep my tracker in my bag, at the very least..."

"We'll be able to play a few matches, I think..." Her voice trails off. What else did she need to cover..? "Oh, do you know your ITL?"

"ITL..?" she repeats, furrowing her brow. "I'm not sure what that is."

"Ink toxicity level," Four explains. "Basically, how much venom do you produce and how often do you have to clean the tank filter?"

"Oh, that's what that is... Mmh, I think when I was buying a tank, Sheldon said it was, like... 4.00, I think?" What. That's too fucking high, what the shit. "Is that a lot..?"

"Yes." High is 2.00. Extremely high is 2.50. 3.00 is unheard of, but fucking... Fucking _4__.00? _To Four's knowledge, the scale caps at _3.00, _so why the fuck does Eight claim to be at _4.0__0? _"Are you sure he said the right number, not, like... 2.50 or something..?"

"Well... I can check once we get to Deca. I still have some ink testers left from when we were buying..." Eight pauses to brush a tentacle out of her face. "I have to clean my filter every three turf matches and every two Ranked, but I can push to five if I really have to."

What. The fuck. "Maybe you need to buy a tank with a stronger filter or something?"

"... I did?" Eight cocks an eyebrow. "The weaker ones broke after a few games. Why, what's yours?"

"0.50," she replies. Eight looks wildly confused. "... That's, like, average."

"That's _low, _" she mumbles. "How do you, like... Defend yourself?"

"... With my dualies?" Four says slowly. Eight blushes slightly. "I- What do you mean?"

"... Never mind," she says quietly. She clears her throat. "So, um... What weapons do you all use?"

"I play Splat Dualies, those come with Burst Bombs and Tenta Missiles. Dana plays Inkbrush, which has Splat Bombs and Splashdown. I've heard the other potential recruit uses the E-Liter, although I'm not entirely sure which one. The basic one's got Ink Mines and Ink Storm, though. So... I guess just pick whatever you think synergizes with that?" Sparing a glance at Eight, Four can tell she's wildly fucking lost. Giving her a smile, she tells her, "It's fine, don't worry. I'll help you with it."

Eight smiles back. "Thank you, Four."

"It's nothing," she replies. "We're friends, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Eight pauses while struggling to find the words. "It just means more than you know," is what she settles on, and her words make something stir in her chest. Four has to look away to avoid blushing, although she's sure she does anyways.

"I'm happy to help, then," she tells her, and Eight responds by taking her hand and gently squeezing it.

Yeah...

Four's happy she doesn't hate Eight anymore.

* * *

After informing Dana that they'd be stopping at Ammo Knights to pick up a weapon, Sheldon begins fucking _yammering _the moment Eight asks a simple question about a weapon. Eight looks very, very uncomfortable, but she's a _decent person _who _doesn't know how to tell Sheldon to shut up, _and Four _kind of didn't want to snap at the guy _but also _what the fuck, it's a Tentatek Splattershot, it's not that difficult._

"So, did you get all that?" Sheldon asks with a wide grin. Four and Eight share a glance, and then Eight nods. "Great! Are you interested?"

"Um," Eight starts, nervously fiddling with the strap of her bag. "... Sure?"

"Just to make sure," Four adds before Sheldon actually sold her the damn thing, "It comes with Splat Bombs and Inkjet, right?"

"Yep, it does!" He holds it firmly in his grasp. "Oh, and there's a custom variant of it, too." Sheldon suddenly ducks beneath the table and pops up a few seconds later. In his hands is a Splattershot, but with a chrome finish and black details - it takes Four a second to realize it's a replica of an Octo Shot. He hands it to Eight, who takes it gingerly. She slowly turns it in her hand as she inspects it, and furrows her brow as she realizes what exactly it is.

"How do you..?"

"He's the NSS engineer," Four explains, and Eight visibly relaxes. Now _Sheldon _looks tense, so she rolls her eyes and tells him that "Eight's an agent as well. Agent 8." Sheldon opens his mouth to ask a question Four's heard (and asked) multiple times, so she cuts him off. "No, we don't have eight agents. It's a long story. And it's not a racial thing, to my knowledge." He closes his mouth.

"I wish you told me earlier!" he mumbles, pushing up his glasses. "Well... You get discounts on all of the custom Heroes now, and... That custom Octo Shot won't cost you any more than the regular Tentatek now." The price tag doesn't matter much, given that Eight's _fucking _**_loaded_ **, but the sentiment can be appreciated at the very least. "Are you interested? It's 2,100 C."

Eight inhales shakily, closing her eyes, then exhales and opens them. "Su-"

"Well, okay, it's not really a _custom, _a lot of the design is based off the actual Octo Shot's design, what with the funnels and all, _AND _it's got a built-in filter for venom! It was kind of a pain to make, but I'm really happy with how it tu-"

"Sheldon," Four snaps with a glare. His face turns blue with embarrassment and he apologizes. "C'mon."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just- I'm just so _excited _to share! And... That Hyperfresh character was a big help, too." He clears his throat. "So, you're buying it?"

"Yes," Eight mutters, unable to force all of the edge from her voice. She almost shoves her card into his hand. Four notes the small circles towards the ends of her tentacles start glowing a slight blue. Strange... She's never actually seen that before. "Thank you," she adds quietly.

Sheldon pulls the TIDP guard off the handle and instructs Eight to press her thumb against it. The TIDP lights up in Eight's color. "Tada! Now it's synced."

"Thanks, Sheldon," Four says with a forced smile. She practically drags Eight out the door as soon as possible, and Eight visibly deflates the moment they leave. "He's annoying, right?"

"How can someone talk so much?" she asks. "It's unbelievable."

"Yeah, I know... If we didn't need him on the NSS so badly, I'd kick him." Eight laughs. "What? Wouldn't you?"

"... Maybe," she replies after a moment of thought. "But... There's a built-in filter?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know," Four admits. "I wasn't paying attention."

"... How?"

Four shrugs. "It's a skill you acquire after the third time you visit him, I guess. He's not that bad... I just think he's happy to share his stuff with the world, you know?"

"I... I _guess _I understand," she says with a sigh, "But he... Would it kill him to be a little quieter?"

She laughs, and Eight gives her a look that can only be described as pure unamusement. "Sorry, sorry, but... Yeah, I think he'd benefit a little from it." Checking the time, Four notes that it's 4:40. Perfect, they're on time.

The walk to Deca doesn't even take five minutes, and by the time they walk in it's two minutes shy of 4:45. Four looks around for Dana while Eight grabs her hand again and honestly does she use lotion or something? Her hands are _really _soft... Maybe Four should ask, or something. Would that be weird? Maybe she could get Three to ask or something, Lord knows she owes her one at this rate-

"Sarah!" Her eyes snap over to the speaker. On one of the couches in Deca's waiting room is Dana, Inkbrush resting on the side of it with her ink tank. Dana waves at her, which Four returns. "Man, I was scared you were gonna be late and _ohhhhhhhhhhh my god _is that the new girl? She's _adorable."_

"I have never been late in the history of anything ever," states Four. If she's going to be honest, that might be the one thing she's, like, actually consistent with. "And, uh... Yeah, that's her. Eight, meet Dana. Dana, meet Eight."

Dana gives Eight a wave, who looks mildly uncomfortable.

"Um," Eight says eloquently, "Hi?"

"Soooo, like, are your tentacles naturally like that? And is that your natural ink color, because if so that's so cool, and- Wait, are you like, one of those albinos or something where your ink's the color of your blood, or- Nonono, can't be, right? It's too purple, but _wow _it's so nice! And what brand of oil do you use, I've never seen a blue highlight like that before, unless you, like, have some kind of piebaldism or something but I don't think there's any that's _just _on the tentacles, I mean unless you do in which case wow, you could totally enter a contest as some kind of genetic anomaly for that alone, or, like- Do you have an Inkstagram? I can _totally _manage an Inkstagram for you, with like, the right lighting and everything you'd get guys lining up at your door in _minutes! _And you could totally pull off that goth-y kinda frilly look, and- Sarah, wait, oh my god, don't you think she'd look cute in a skirt? She could ROCK a skirt," Dana babbles.

"Dana," Four says, "Tone it down a bit."

Realization flashes across her face as she blushes. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just really excited..! I've been WAITING for this day for, like, ages." Dana slumps further into the couch as she kicks her legs about idly. "Lucas left to go get his stuff from his locker, by the by."

Oh. Right. Lockers exist.

"Ummm, Four?" Eight cocks her head to the side ever-so-slightly. "What's your locker number and code? I can go get your stuff for you, if you'd like."

That's... Awfully nice of her. Unless she's trying to avoid Dana, which is also pretty reasonable. She's nice, but... Geez, it wouldn't hurt to talk a little less! And... Now all Four can think about is Dana and Sheldon trying to have a conversation. Wouldn't _that _end poorly?

"Sure, sure. Want me to write it down, or something?" she asks.

"Could you text me it, please?" Four nods and does just that. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," she says with a small smile. "You know where they are, yeah? Hall B, take two lefts and it's under the blue section."

"I remember where the lockers are, Four. Thank you, though." Eight lets go of Four's hand and moves it to the strap of her bag. "I won't take too long!"

With a small smile, Eight's off.

"So," says Dana in That tone, "She calls you Four?"

"Yeah," she says, taking a seat next to her. "Why?"

"You, um... Have something going on between you, or..?"

Four rolls her eyes. "No, you _dolt. _She's dating someone and I'm not looking for anyone right now."

"Nooo, just last week you were complaining about how lonely you are!" A curious cloudy medley of pink and red swirls towards the ends of Dana's tentacles. "Sooo..? Don't you _liiiiike _her?"

"Act your age," Four scoffs with an eye roll. Dana pouts but the small orange spots dancing about her mantle suggest she's teasing nonetheless. "And she's nice, but... Like I _said, _she's dating someone."

"Hmm..." While not breaking eye contact, Dana furrows her brow as her mantle cycles through different shades. "... Who is it? Do I know them?"

Four sucks in a breath. "Youuu could say that..."

Dana narrows her gaze further before her tentacles briefly flare up with bioluminescence. "Don't tell me it's _Summer."_

"How the fuck did you get that on the first guess?!" Four didn't _say _anything about it at all. "Seriously, are you a psychic or something..?"

"Your tentacles matched mine when I got to her color," she explains. "But, wow, really? I didn't think Summer was even, like, capable of getting a date in the first place..."

"You know, you're way too good at controlling your mantle. It's _scary, _you should teach me..." Dana grins as it fades back to her normal hue. "Yeah, it's kind of a recent development, though? Turns out they're both fucking morons, so it took like... At _least _a month longer than it should have."

Dana hums and nods. "Mmh, yeah... Weeeeell, it worked! Maybe Summer'll get outta your hair then, huh?"

"Nah," Four says plainly and Dana's mantle briefly lights up in a furious display of whites and blues. "Hey, hey... It's fine. She's a lot better than she was in July, anyways."

"She better be," Dana grumbles. "I just hope- Eight, was her name?" Four nods. "I just hope she's not... Like her."

While Dana could... Definitely choose a better person to say this to, Four understands. "She isn't," she tells her and there's a slight edge to her voice that she couldn't force out. Dana's tentacles flashe beige in apology and Four nods. "So..." Four clears her throat, adjusting in her seat as she inches closer. "Tell me about the new guy."

"Oh! Right, right, his name's Lucas, like I said, and he's seventeen, apparently. He's a reeeeeeeaaaally good E-Liter, and he uses the Scope so obviously he'll kill you from, like, outta nowhere. Said he prefers the Custom but he'll use the reg if he's gotta, and, uhh... Oh, his gear, right? Right, right, he's got a Tenacity bandana with all Special Up, 'cause of the bubbles, pair of boots with Object Shredder and Main Saver - for Ink Armor, so he claims - and he either runs more Main Saver or Sub Up, depending on the mode and circumstance and stuff." Dana folds her hands in her lap and smiles. "That good enough?"

"Yeah, that'll work..." That gives them one backliner to replace Neuros, although the charge-storing capabilities of non-scoped chargers was something they might miss. Tenacity's always a nice ability to have although Four hopes it wouldn't see a lot of use. When Dana goes down, the penalty from Respawn Punisher keeps her out a few seconds longer, though she gets in a little faster with Stealth Jump and all Jump Speed Up. Four prefers to wear Special Up with her Tenta Missiles - three sub slots with a main of Charge Up - so the Tenacity bonus should make it easier to pester the enemy with them until Dana gets back. Hopefully Lucas can keep the enemy away from the objective while Four's using her special, but... That still remains unseen.

And then there's Eight, the wild card.

Four still has her doubts about Eight and accepted her invite on a whim, truth be told. On one hand, she's an NSS agent, which is a testament to her skill. On the other... Is Eight cut out for these kinds of things? Eight's barely level twenty-seven, compared to Four and Dana's level 36* and 25*, respectively. Eight can fight... Probably, given how badly Three looked after Kamabo, but...

She sighs.

"Hey, Sarah, is something up?" Dana asks, pale blue dusting the ends of her tentacles.

"No," she says, forcing a smile. "It's fine. I'm just a little worried, is all."

"We'll do good!" she chirps with a bright smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure we will."

Before Four can give it much more thought, she sees a familiar figure walk back into the lobby.

"Sorry it took so long," Eight apologizes, handing Four her ink tank and Hero Dualies Replica. "Is this the other recruit you were talking about?"

Next to her is a decently tall octoling with an E-Liter Scope strapped to his back.

"Hello," he greets, voice muffled by his bandana and distorted in a way Four can't describe, in a way beyond an accent. "I'm Lucas."

Offering his hand out for a handshake, Four takes it.

"Lucas, it's a pleasure to meet you!" she says, not oblivious to way Eight winces at her _'I have to pretend to be a functioning member of society' _voice. "I take it you met Eight when you were over at the lockers?"

With a small sigh, Lucas nods. "Yes, we did. I already checked the rotations, and League is currently on Rainmaker. Dana already disclosed your gear sets when I was, um... _Selected, _so I'm wearing Sub Up to allow us to move across the map easier."

Selected, huh..? Yeah, that's a good way to put it. Four loves Dana, she really does, but... Sheesh, if she's not overwhelming. Spear once compared her energy to that of a freight-train on caffeine, which was... Appropriate.

Four nods, putting on her ink tank. "So... Shall we go, then?"

She's met with two smiles and a slightly-unnerving stare, and that's a good enough answer for her.

(As they start walking down the halls to register, Four takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly.)

(Things will go well.)


	11. 2-6 Eight swears a lot

Eight takes a deep breath.

She can do this.

On the walk to their room, she reviewed the Rainmaker rules over and over. Rainmaker's at the center of the stage, Rainmaker explosion kills, the goal is to bring the Rainmaker to the enemy's goal post... Scores are displayed on boards throughout the arena and are designed to be easily seen, and the team with the lowest counter wins.

It's timed, too, but Eight won't explode this time if she screws up. A part of her is worried about that - the lack of explosives, which, honestly, is just a weird thing to be worried about - because if she doesn't have them, she worries she won't play to the best of her ability. Eight would really hate to let Four down, of all people. These past two and a half months have been spent trying to get Four to tolerate her (or, gods forbid, _like_ her) and now that Four seems to (at the very least) _not_ hate her, Eight worries that if she screws up Four would go right back to how she was in the beginning: angry, with hate-filled eyes and a lashing, burning tongue. She had a right to be like that, Eight thinks, because Eight hurt Three. The injuries were both direct and indirect, like the way the ink remained in the raw bits of flesh from the hijacking, or the large cuts and scrapes that littered her body from when she crashed into the blender. There are psychological wounds that Three tried to hide, like how she practically cowered in Four's shadow wherever she went, like the terror-filled gaze she had whenever she was alone (even at the Cabin, when she sat on the couch, when she didn't notice Eight was watching) and how she'd try to hide her blue, bloodshot eyes whenever she was with Eight. Then there was the way her voice trembled and wavered when she spoke.

Honestly, Eight has to wonder if Three ever hated her, and if she still hates her now, if she's just dating Eight to be nice. There's a part of her that knows that's irrational, but... Well, self-awareness doesn't help all that much if you can't do anything about it.

Eight shakes her head.

That's not important right now - there's a match to be played.

Her Octo Shot Replica really just seems like a normal Splattershot, which is... Good. Just a nice, basic shooter. The sub and special with it are ones she's familiar with... Maybe too familiar? They're the ones she had to use when she was escaping from Kamabo. While they definitely bring back some... Less than desirable memories, she can use them well.

The part of it that she's the most interested in is the filter. Eight understands why ink filters are built into ink tanks and everything, because the more venomous cephalopods have an advantage on the others. And, well, if the ink pierces skin (which it always does if you get hit by a shot, really) then the neurotoxins may stay in the body and lead to... Infections and, in more extreme cases, death. If Eight focuses on it, she's able to limit the amount of toxins in her ink. That, in turn, means her filter doesn't have to work as hard. ... And then there's a part of her that wonders if she could force toxins into ink produced from her depositor, but that's both inappropriate and crude and also it could probably kill someone and that's the last way she'd want to kill Three not that Eight thinks about that a lot because that's not a good thing to think about also would they even ever get that far into their relationship? NOT THAT EIGHT THINKS ABOUT THAT A LOT EITHER, because she doesn't, because she's a child of the Elders, and children of the Elders don't think about those kind of things at all ever BUT UH _**MOVING ON,**_ what was Eight talking about? Filters? Right. Weapon filters.

Eight looks down as the Octo Shot Replica in her hand. Towards the back of it is a series of thin, raised vents. She thinks she can see the white hue of a filter behind the vents, but... Oh, does it heat up ink or something? But that would give the Octo Shot Replica over other weapons, since the shots would be more like tap-shots from a charger, right? Then, maybe the ink is filtered through it once more and compressed like a regular shot, but the excess venom would... Be heated and denatured through that? But, then that's just a great way to burn yourself, right..? Eight will... Ask Marina about it later or something. And not Sheldon.

Screw Sheldon.

So... Right, okay. Rainmaker. Eight skipped a few ranks, making it to A+ over the span of a week, but her average is dragging the rest of them down. Four is S+8, Dana is S+7, and Lucas is S+3. They're limited to rank S games right now, but they might be able to get into an S+0 game if they do well.

"Okay," Four says, taking a right onto Hall D. They were assigned D15(03), otherwise known as Hall D, Room 15, Replica 03. "So, we're on The Reef right now. Paired with four S's... It says here that they've got a Forge, a Rapid Pro, a, uh... Bamboozler? Really..? Aaand a Ballpoint."

"I hate Blasters," Dana mumbles.

"The Bamboozler can be a threat," says Lucas, adjusting his bandana, "If they know how to use it."

"Emphasis on if," Four replies. "Dana, you guard the Rainmaker, I'll play support. Lucas, you watch the Rainmaker, and Eight... You carry it."

Eight nods. "Will do."

They step into the lobby, and Eight takes another deep breath.

She can do this.

* * *

"Fuck!" Eight swears, barely dodging a shot from the Bamboozler. The shield is down, but no team has grabbed it yet - Lucas has his chargersight trained on it, while the Ballpoint and Bamboozler are pestering them with long-ranged shots that outrange Dana, Eight, and Four.

Dana's currently fighting the Rapid Blaster, weaving between shots while he continues to step just out of her reach. The Forge Pro also happens to be shooting at Eight - fun - and while he outranges her, his weapon consumes more ink than hers does. Eight's attempting to conserve her shots though, though she shoots at him whenever she gets a chance. Some hit, most don't - this is starting to _really_ be a pain.

She thinks she heard Four say she was going to try to flank them, but she hasn't seen Four at all on the other side of the bridge.

Suddenly, a loud, deep frequency erupts from the corner of the arena - "_Booyah!"_ \- from Four, a series of orange missiles flying out from her. "Grab it!" she yells over them, and Eight races forward and grabs it. Four hones in on her position and superjumps to her.

"Which way are we going?" she asks, and Eight replies by inking a path off the bridge before jumping off. The Forge Pro notices this and shoots at her, but Eight narrowly dodges them. The Bamboozler charges a shot that whizzes over her head, and Eight fully charges a shot towards the path on the side. They chase after her, but a loud _BANG_ resounds throughout the arena as Lucas snipes the Forge Pro.

Four trails behind her a little, lobbing a Burst Bomb straight into the Bamboozler's face. In return, she charges a shot and it hits Four in the hearts. She rolls to the side, dodging the weaker shot meant to finish her off, and then another roll back to where she was, using the boost to splat her.

Eight hears a high-pitched, warbling frequency to the right of her - "_Ouch..."_ \- so that means Dana's down. Four grits her beak and swims to Eight's side and then passes her.

Eight hears the familiar noise of a splatling charging, so she fully charges a shot. The air on the mouth of the Rainmaker wavers visibly, the ink burning white. She launches it, and the explosion shakes the ground as the Ballpoint swims to the side, her charge lost. Four goes far ahead to deal with her, forming two Burst Bombs and smashing them into her head before she could charge up another shot.

"C'mon!" she calls, and Eight swims ahead, but then-

The Bamboozler unleashes a fully-charged shot into Eight's face again, then follows it up with a weak shot immediately. Four can't stop her in time, and neither can Eight, and the last thing Eight hears before being splatted is her loud, warbling "_Ouch..."_ frequency that's amplified by her ink tank.

Two seconds later, and Eight hears Four's splatted frequency.

"I cannot believe we lost to a Bamboozler," Four mutters.

"It's not really a bad weapon," Eight replies, forming a Splat Bomb and rolling it off to the side to charge her special gauge more. "It's just really hard to use and outclassed by a lot of other weapons."

"So... You're saying it's bad, then?" Four replies with a smirk. Eight rolls her eyes. "Fiiine."

They settle into a game of back-and-forth rather quickly - the enemy team makes some progress, only for Four's team to get the Rainmaker back, only for the Rapid Blaster to shoot blindly and splat them all, and the cycle repeats.

Eventually, the Rapid Blaster just starts splatting them whenever they get close at all. The enemy team is at the 35 mark while Four's team is still at 57, and there's less than a minute left now... Whenever they'd get close, he'd be there and he'd splat them. It's starting to _really_ get on Eight's nerves.

"Hey," she says to Four once they both respawn, "Are you getting sick of the blaster, too?"

Four rolls her eyes with a nod. "God, am I? We should really stop them soon, too..." she mutters, pointing up at the scoreboard on the ceiling. The enemy's counter is currently at 34 and decreasing, while theirs is at 85.

"Charge up Tenta Missiles," Eight tells her before dropping into her ink. She catches a glimpse of Dana valiantly slapping the Bamboozler a few times before the Rapid Blaster shoots her point-blank the face.

Eight hears the Rainmaker charging another shot, and the arc whizzes over her head. The explosion shakes the ink around her, and then the enemy team starts swimming forward. Eight forms a Splat Bomb and rolls it towards them. The Bamboozler pops up and darts back, slamming into the Forge Pro. "Sorry!" she yelps, readying her charger.

The Ramp is an odd place to be at. It's different than other ramps, because it's inconvenient and deserving of a title. You can't ink it and it's far too close to the spawnpoint so people are constantly coming at you. Eight normally hates being at The Ramp when she's trying to move the Rainmaker, but it's not so bad now. The Bamboozler forms a Curling Bomb and gently nudges it up The Ramp and goddammit-

Eight launches herself off the ground with a kick, rolling over to the enemy team and landing two shots on the Bamboozler. She's able to dodge a shot from her, but the Forge Pro charges up a Rainmaker blast while the Rapid Blaster starts shooting at her. She's content with getting splatted by the Rapid Blaster, although she's going to keep shooting nonetheless, but then the full force of the Rainmaker blast hits her entire body and _owwwww__**wwwww**__**wwwwww!**_

Eight respawns next to Dana.

"You too, huh?" she mutters. Eight nods, feeling her rings glowing in annoyance. "We'll get 'em... Probably."

She hears Lucas's ink tank beep twice as he twists suddenly, the loud _BANG_ echoing through the arena. A second later, and the last of the Ballpoint's long-range shots hits him in the face and then he explodes in a blast of blue ink.

_Excellent._

Four ducks behind the goal and then unleashes a barrage of Tenta Missiles, and Dana runs off the side path, trying to flank them. Eight swims straight ahead, then pops up to briefly cover a patch of blue. Her special meter's almost full, but they're right _there-_

The all-too familiar clapping of the blaster shot gets louder as they move up The Ramp, and Eight skirts back. She wonders if they can see the ripples she leaves in the ink, and she thinks she's safe but then the Forge Pro charges up a Rainmaker blast.

Eight veers far to the right, hitting her head against the wall as the scorching explosion shakes the ink around her again. Four darts out from behind the goal, landing a few hits on the Rapid Blaster, and then her tank beeps twice. Finally!

Still, his shots managed to cover most of the goal, and Eight briefly recoats the blue patch left from the Rainmaker. Her special meter fills and she activates her Inkjet. She feels Dana honing in on her position, but she doesn't know if she'll make it in time. The counter's ticking down - ten! nine! - and the Forge Pro is almost on the goal, so Eight aims a shot and shoots-

Her tank beeps twice.

Four immediately starts shooting at the shield and Eight swerves to the right, shooting at the Bamboozler who manages to get out of the way. She forms a Curling Bomb and swims down the path it leaves, Eight shooting at her all the while.

Five! Four!...

Dana crashes down with a Splashdown, coating the goal in a wave of orange ink. The shield explodes - three! two!

"What the fuck are you waiting for?!" Eight yells, launching another Inkjet shot at the fleeing Bamboozler. "Grab it, hurry!"

There's a brief moment of hesitation before Four swims over and grabs the Rainmaker. The overtime buzzers start blaring and they're deafening. Eight feels the Inkjet start to overheat and fires one last shot at the Bamboozler. As the force from the Inkjet propels her back onto solid ground, her ink tank beeps twice - the Bamboozler was splatted.

Dana slides ahead, the trail of ink from her Inkbrush providing a nice path. The light from Lucas's charger is quickly followed with a beam of ink, making a wider path.

Eight's ink tank whirs loudly when she pops up again near the bridge, seeing the Rapid Blaster in the distance. Her normally hidden rings blaze a bright ultramarine as a warning, and Eight doesn't care enough right now to try and hide them again.

"Rapid's up ahead," she mutters, and Four nods, charging up a shot. The shot lands near the Rapid Blaster, who swims out of the way and tosses a vial of Toxic Mist at them. Four skirts backwards while Eight forces herself through it, ignoring the burning pain in her lungs.

It drained a little more than 5% of her ink, so she still has enough for a Splat Bomb, but she hears the familiar whirring of a splatling charging up. The blaster shoots at her twice, one missing and one grazing her with the explosion, but if she gets a little closer, then _FUCK, THE SPLATLING'S CHARGED-_

She swears under her breath, darting forward and dodging a shaky shot from the blaster. Eight presses the nozzle of her Octo Shot Replica up to the Rapid Blaster's face and holds down on the trigger for dear life, hoping and praying that the reheating time of the weapon will be enough for Eight to splat him. He explodes in a blast of orange ink.

She casts a glance at the Ballpoint, who had just finished shooting the rapid short-range shots. The long range ones aren't aimed at Eight and rather Four, and shit this is bad. Four's currently pressed against the side of the bridge in squid form, the timer ticking down audibly. Lucas lines up a shot with the Ballpoint's forehead at the same time Eight starts shooting at her, and he lets go of the trigger with an audible _BANG._

Eight's ink tank beeps once - good.

Four swims out of her hiding spot and catches up with Eight. "Where's Dana?" she breathes, but a high-pitched frequency echoes through the arena. Splatted, then. "Oh, good."

"I can cover you," Eight mutters as Lucas swims off his perch and onto the small box atop the bridge.

Four nods.

"Follow me," she tells her, swimming off the side of the bridge to reach the side. She charges the shot halfway to make a small path for the two of them. Lucas remains on the bridge. Maybe he sees someone over there or something, because he has a shot charged and-

_BANG! _\- Eight thinks she hears his tank beep.

"Bamboozler again," he calls.

Eight swims ahead of Four, stopping abruptly and shifting back to humanoid form at the sound of gunfire. The shots seem to be actual shots this time, so... It's the Forge Pro, right? Eight catches a glimpse of the blue tentacles as she yells at Four to get back, and then he pulls out his Bubble Wand. Eight knows that she lacks the firepower to shred through them, and even less so when she hears the Bamboozler's fully-charged shots hitting them. She tries to swim backwards but there's not a lot of places to go, and they're about to burst-

"HOWDY, FUCKERS!" Dana roars as she descends with a Splashdown. While Dana's Splashdown armor ate most of the bubbles' damage, the parts it couldn't take were blocked with Eight's face. "Did you miss me?" she coos with a smile.

"Play the game," Four replies with an eye roll, laughing slightly. "Although that was pretty cool."

Eight would compliment Dana if her head wasn't throbbing, but she gives her a shaky thumbs-up and then pops down into the ink. Dana pushes ahead, leaving a path of ink behind that Four covers with another partially-charged shot. Eight swims behind them once she figures out which direction is up, Lucas following suit.

Eight pops up briefly to cover some of the blue ink on the ground, feeling her special meter fill. She casts a glance over at Lucas, whose mantle is also flaring with bioluminescence.

She hears a high-pitched, warbling frequency from up ahead - "_This way!"_ from Dana. And then she hears it again afterwards, so Eight swims ahead because there's probably a reason as to why Dana is yelling at them to hurry up.

The Ballpoint charges up another shot as Four approaches the goal. Eight can hear the Rainmaker's timer growing louder and louder, so they should hurry up. Eight forms a Splat Bomb and rolls it towards the Ballpoint, forcing her to shift into squid form to get away from the explosion. She forms a vial of Toxic Mist and hurls it at Dana and Four, but Dana knocks it aside with the handle of her Inkbrush.

"Is that even legal?!" the Ballpoint yelps as the vial smashes against the wall. "I don't think that's legal!"

"It is," mutters the Bamboozler as she readies another shot, "Unfortunately."

"That's bullshit," she growls, firing a round of short-range shots at Four, who swims away from the barrage. Her mantle then flares up in a dazzling display of blues and greens and she activates her special - Inkjet. Eight activates hers as well, readying her weapon. The heating time is still too slow, and the Ballpoint launches a shot at Four. The shot barely misses, grazing her with a visible stain. She readies it again, and Eight lines up hers with the Ballpoint's face and fires.

She flies higher with a sudden push from her thrusters, swerving right, the shot barely missing.

{Get out of the way!} Lucas barks, and Eight switches to octopus form, dropping suddenly as the Inkjet blast flies over her head. He lines up a shot and fires with a loud _BANG,_ but the shot is slightly off and the Ballpoint fires at him.

Eight swims to the right and fires a shot at the Bamboozler, who lines up a shot that hits Eight square in the chest, eliciting a sharp yelp. She goes to shoot again but a blast from the Rainmaker forces her shot to be off, and she swims backwards. Dana rolls a Splat Bombs towards her, and she's sandwiched against the wall - with two beeps from Dana's tank, that's one less member to take care of.

Lucas twists suddenly and the shot shreds through the Inkjet, his tank beeping twice and Eight's beeping once. That's two down, then...

Eight spies the Forge Pro, shooting at Four. Dana tosses a Splat Bomb up onto the ledge, and he scoots back, not without taking Dana out. The frequency she emits is deeper and more stable... Why is Dana "_Booyah!"-_ing right now?

Feeling the Inkjet start to overheat again, Eight fires one last shot at the Forge Pro, which misses, and she's then launched back to the ground.

The other two haven't respawned yet - at this proximity, they'd all be able to hear the respawn point ding. Though, that begs the question... Where's the Rapid Blaster?

A loud, screechy frequency erupts from behind Eight. She whirls around to see him erupt in a blaze of blue ink, with the Rapid Blaster standing behind him.

He wipes some of the blue ink off his cheek and readies his gun.

"Shit." Eight isn't sure if it's her or Four that says that. She also isn't sure if it matters.

Eight forms a Splat Bomb and throws it at him as hard as she can, then hooks an arm around Four's waist and pulls her over to the left side of the car replica. She squawks indignantly but doesn't protest. "Follow me," Eight mutters, "And if I tell you to run, you fucking run."

"Okay," Four says quietly, the ticking of the Rainmaker growing louder and louder. "I'd say we have less than fifteen seconds to get this to work."

"Fuck!" Eight yells at a much higher volume, readying her weapon and shooting a path towards the goal. She swims ahead of Four, letting her ink recharge slightly before tossing another bomb at the Rapid Blaster. Four follows behind her, and the Forge Pro leaps down and fires at Eight. The side of the goal is inked, so Four can get up it, but-

A pellet of blue ink hits Eight in the face. Her marks are glowing the brightest they've ever have during her time on the surface, and she raises her gun and fires at him.

Her Octo Shot Replica doesn't have the same firepower as the Forge Splattershot Pro, but it's enough to distract him from shooting Four. Dana's honed in on her position, but she probably won't get there in time...

One last shot connects with Eight's torso, and pain shoots through her body as she's splatted. Distantly, she thinks she hears the clap of blaster shots echoing from behind her, but her world goes dark before she can truly be sure.

By the time she respawns, the overtime buzzers are gone. A loud whistle blares throughout the arena.

Eight looks up at the scoreboard on the ceiling.

The bars on both sides fill up to the 27 count, before suddenly launching forward and colliding. A flash of white covers the screen, and it fades. The bar is- It's entirely orange, which means..!

"We won..!" she breathes, unable to stop herself from grinning. Four, Dana, and Lucas all superjump back to spawn, looking relatively pleased.

"We did it!" Four says. She looks decently beat-up, with large blue stains covering her arms and a small one on her cheek. Those are definitely going to be sore later. "You guys all did really well."

"Wasn't my Splashdown cool?!" Dana gushes, a cloudy pattern of greens and yellows dancing about her tentacles. "It was cool, right?"

"It looked cool," Lucas replies. Eight's still curious about his voice - the accent, sure, she has one too, but the warped quality to it... It's interesting. "Thought you probably could have said something a little better than 'Howdy, fuckers.'"

"Improv's never been my strong suit!" she chirps back, slinging her Inkbrush over her shoulder. "It could have been like last time, though."

Four rolls her eyes. "That was just _sad,_ Dana."

"It wasn't _that_ bad, c'mon." She pokes Four in the cheek, who bats her hand away. "Aaanyways, Eight!"

"Yes?"

"That Inkjet thing? Like, right before overtime? That was really cooool!" Dana's bright smile fades in an instant, replaced with a dark scowl. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

"... I didn't sound like that, did I?" Eight asks quietly, following them back into the lobby.

"Yeah, you... Kinda did," Four admits. Eight sighs. "You wanna play a few more matches? We've got time, I think."

"Oooobviously!" Dana replies. Lucas merely nods.

"Can I clean my filter first?" Eight asks.

"Already?"

"Well, I played hard that match... And I don't want to get disconnected."

Four shrugs and then nods. "Sure. We still have time between matches, anyways."

Oh. Right. That was a thing.

Four pulls their trackers out from the slots in the wall and hands them back. Eight takes hers and then gets her bag back from the small compartment beneath it. At the same time, the other team walks back into the lobby.

"Hey!" says the Forge Pro with a wave. "That was a good match."

"Oh, thank you!" Four replies in the sugar-sweet disgustingly fake voice that makes Eight's skin crawl. "You guys played well, too!"

They talk for a bit and then he writes something down on a slip of paper, handing it to Four. He then follows the rest of his team out of the lobby, and Four sighs and shoves it in her pocket.

"Friend code," she mumbles, "He wants to play more sometime."

"He wasn't bad," Lucas muses, "Although that Bamboozler wasn't the best... How much Respawn Up do you think she was wearing?"

"Maybe twelve slots," Dana replies. "She's probably better off just using the Nozzlenose or something at that rate..."

"Pathetic," he mutters, rolling his eyes. They follow Four as she rounds the corner, walking further down the hall.

"What is this room?" Eight asks as Four holds open the door. "It's not like any of the others..."

"It's a waiting room," she explains. "Since we're registered and on the queue, we can just wait here for a bit. There's also weapon maintaining supplies and stuff." Once they're all in, she gestures at a few bins lined up against the wall.

"Oh," says Eight. "Okay." Gingerly, she walks over and sits down on the ground beside one. The room is relatively empty for its size, but Eight has a feeling it's pretty packed earlier in the day. She takes a tank cleaning kit from a bin and takes the lid off her tank, popping the filter out. The once-white disc is now mostly blue... She's lucky this room exists then, huh?

Four takes a seat at one of the chairs lining the walls. "We have four minutes before the next match... It's D12(06), so that's Albacore."

Eight nods absentmindedly, scrubbing at a large patch of solidified venom. It flakes off onto the ground. Once her filter is relatively clean, she pops the filter back in and screws the lid onto her ink tank once more. She pulls her phone out of her bag and turns it on.

**You, 5:01 PM:** Hi, Three!

**You, 5:01 PM:** How are things there?

**Three, 5:03 PM:** [image attached]

**Three, 5:03 PM:** We put it out

Eight taps the image she sent and enlarges it. There's... Something on the counter, covered in a frothy white liquid - oh, and there's Pearl with the fire extinguisher, what? - and it looks like it's smoking a lot... Marina's squinting at the smoldering mess with her hand on her chin, while a very frazzled Three is caught in the corner of the picture. Eight can't really see her face, but she thinks her eyes are very, very bloodshot with how blue they are...

**You, 5:04 PM:** What?

**You, 5:04 PM:** Three, what happened?

**Three, 5:04 PM:** The fucking microwave was on fire

**Three, 5:05 PM:** Not anymore

**You, 5:05 PM:** WHY was the microwave on fire?

**Three, 5:06 PM:** Marina made a floating cube

**Three, 5:06 PM:** And then the microwave was on fire

**You, 5:06 PM:** I feel like you're leaving out some important details here...

**Three, 5:07 PM:** No I'm not that's what happened

**Three, 5:07 PM:** Ask Pearl if you want she has my back

**You, 5:07 PM:** I'll... Be sure to

**Three, 5:07 PM:** So how are things there?

**You, 5:08 PM:** They're good, I guess?

**You, 5:08 PM:** But... Are you okay, Three?

**Three, 5:08 PM:** As okay as I can be given the circumstances

**Three, 5:08 PM:** Fucking Pearl wants me to get off my phone and help with this *please*

**Three, 5:09 PM:** So I'll see you later

**Three, 5:09 PM:** Hopefully not in a jail cell

**You, 5:09 PM:** Um... Okay

**You, 5:09 PM:** I'll see you! Stay safe

**Three, 5:09 PM:** I promise nothing

Eight sighs quietly, shaking her head.

"What's up?" Four asks.

"I don't understand how they managed to set the microwave on fire..." Eight mumbles. A look of resignation flashes across Four's face.

"... Yeah," she mutters, "I don't either."

Eight really loves Pearl and Marina, but... Wow.

She really pities Three right now.

She'll... Hopefully be okay when they get back though.

Right..?

* * *

They played a few more matches, and then the rotation ended. They won a good amount of them, while some they lost by a hair, and then one they lost _horribly_ and Eight is still a little bitter because a team of four rollers shouldn't be that good.

As they walk back to Four's car, Eight gingerly tugs at Four's sleeve.

"Um," she starts, still a little nervous, "Was I accepted, do you think?"

"Mhm," Four replies. "Yeah, probably. You're very, uh... Objective-oriented, which is something we can use. And Dana seems to like you, too. Hopefully Lucas accepts the offer..."

"I'm sure he will!" Eight says. "I'm just... Happy it went as well as it did."

"Yeah," Four mumbles, voice soft. "Yeah, me too."

(On the drive back, Four continues playing Warm Ink. Eight can't say she hates it as much as she did last time.)


	12. 2-7 Three goes on a dinosaur adventure

Three hears a familiar beep in the driveway. A few seconds pass and then she hears car doors shut, followed by talking that she doesn't care enough about to pay attention to.

The chatter stops abruptly.

"Um," says someone who sounds a fuck of a lot like Eight, "Three? Are you okay?"

Three opens her eyes and looks up, vision blurry and eyes bloodshot.

"Oh my god," says the taller green blob that vaguely resembles a person and sounds like Four. "Are you high?"

"I still don't know what that means," the slightly-shorter-yet-still-far-above-average-height blue-purple blob that vaguely resembles a person and sounds like Eight mumbles. "But are you... Okay?"

"Hi," she rasps and waves in their general direction.

"You sound like shit," Four comments, looking down at her. "... What happened, exactly?"

"I fucking told you." Three sighs. "The microwave?"

"Yeah, the microwave caught on fire... Not you." Very observant, Four.

"Who do you think had to put it out?"

Three cannot see but she assumes the look Four is giving her is the most incredulous look known to cephalokind. "Oh, you're kidding me, right..?"

Three makes a vague gesture towards her everything. "Am I, Sarah? Am I?"

Four responds by bending down and burying her nose in Three's mantle. She pulls away, hacking.

"What the fuck did you think you'd get?" she asks.

"... Four?" Eight cocks her head slightly, watching Four with worry. "Are you... Okay?"

"You smell like ten years of scorched shit," she wheezes.

"Thanks," Three mumbles and pushes herself off the ground. "Oh, uh... What's in the bags?"

"Stuff," Eight replies. What a fucking surprise. "Party stuff."

Three looks over at Four for some clarification. Some answers. Fucking something.

"Yeah," is what she says instead of elaborating like a good friend. "Party stuff."

Three rolls her eyes. "That's not fucking helpful."

"Too bad! That's what it is." Eight sticks her tongue out.

"Put that away, that's gross," Three mutters. Eight makes a "Nyeeeeh" noise. "Eight, come on."

"Make me!"

Oh, you bitch. Three ABSOLUTELY cannot let Eight get away with a 'make me.' She opens her mouth to speak-

Four clears her throat loudly. "Can you guys wait until we, like... Get inside?"

Three rolls her eyes. "Fine, but..." She briefly fishes around in her pocket for her glasses case and puts them on. She took her contacts out a little bit ago because her entire eyes hurt. A lot. Probably because of the flaming microwave.

How do you set a microwave on fire? What the fuck.

What did they even get, anyways? Three would try to look if her eyes didn't hurt and if Four wasn't waiting by the door impatiently.

Three sighs, opens the door, and then follows them in.

* * *

Pearl's mantle lights up orange when she sees Eight.

"Hey, you're back!" Eight nods. "How were things?"

"They were good. How come you never explained Splatoween to me before?" Eight asks.

"... We were going to," Pearl mumbles. Right. Just like how they were going to throw Eight's party together. "Marina's in the kitchen."

Eight's eyes widen. "You're letting her go there?"

"It's not to cook!"

Eight sighs, relieved. "Oh, thank the gods. Nothing's on fire now, right?"

"Not... Now." Pearl and Three share a glance. "Uh... So. You guys got stuff?"

Four nods, holding up the two bags in her hands. "Streamers, hats, plates, a skeleton-"

"A **what.**" Three doesn't know if it's her or Pearl that says that, but it doesn't matter, either.

"A skeleton," Eight answers as if that means anything. "It's a skeleton."

"I-" Pearl furrows her brow. Eight just smiles at her. "Okay. Sure. Whatever. You have a skeleton now."

"Yes! I do." She quietly clears her throat. "Um... Is it okay if I bring this stuff upstairs?"

"I don't see why not," Pearl says with a small shrug. "Is there anything you need to keep down here?"

Eight thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. "No, the plates and stuff are in Four's bags."

Pearl nods.

Eight hesitates instead of going to the stairs. Three's about to ask when Eight suddenly scoops her up and slings her over her shoulder

"Eight," Three wheezes, "What the fuck."

"I have some questions for you, Three," is the only answer she gets as Eight starts speedwalking up the stairs. OOOOOOOH look at Eight with her working legs.

How rude.

"Fucking what? And can you please put me down?"

"If you walked faster maybe I wouldn't have to carry you," Eight retorts, finishing her climb up the stairs. Seeing is a little hard right now and her head is throbbing a little, but the upstairs of the house seems to be just as fancy as the downstairs. Oh wait is that a fucking Rembrandt? Three squirms a little in Eight's grip, who tuts at her. "We're almost there, don't worry."

"Is that a Rembrandt?" she asks, and Eight shrugs, digging her shoulder into Three's stomach. "Do you have a fucking work-out routine or something? And what the hell's in the bag?"

"A skeleton," she states plainly. "And no, I'm not super active. What's a Rembrandt?"

It takes a lot of effort to not nerd-out about art right then and there. "He was a painter but his paintings are also referred to as Rembrandts? He's a pretty important artist, I guess. I've only seen them in like... Museums and shit, do you know if it's authentic? Can you please put me down so I can look?"

Eight responds by half-nudging, half-kicking a door open. Despite the light not being on, it's fairly well-lit, with sunlight streaming in through a window. She sets the bag down and pretty much slams Three down on the bed which is, admittedly, a little hot but also OW. "Sorry," she mumbles when Three glares at her. "I don't know anything about the paintings here, but I could ask Pearl if you want?"

"I'll ask her sometime," she says, sitting up. Shit, her room's nice. Well. Okay, that's kind of expected, given the fact that they live in Sunset Court, but goddamn... Eight takes a seat on the carpet as she unloads the plastic bag of shit, so Three looks around.

It's... Nice. Very nice.

There's a desk by the window with a small lamp on it, and a few tiny succulents that miraculously haven't died. Or, well, maybe it's not a miracle? Eight looks competent, like she wouldn't forget to water them after owning them for two days. It's a bit messy, with papers and pens strewn about it, but the mess is... Almost contained. Above the desk is a shelf that matches it, with a bunch of... Stuff on it. They almost look like erasers..? Some of them have tiny chunks missing, but they're all relatively cute. Oh, wait, is that one Pearl? And next to it is Marina, and then Marie, and- Well, that's Callie, but she's dressed like... Uh- Wait, why is there an Octavio eraser?

"Eight?" She looks up, holding the world's shittiest Splatoween decoration in her hands. "What are those?" Three points at the shelf.

"Oh." She grimaces. "Those are, um... Mem cakes, I think they're called. They... I don't know how to really describe them. I'd get one after a test, and... If I eat one, I get some of my memories back. There's eighty total."

"How... Many have you eaten?" Three asks. Eight shifts and the inkling skeleton falls over.

"I haven't," she mumbles. "I don't... I don't really want to know my past. Like, the more I think about it... Everything points to me not liking who I was, if that... Makes any sense. I mean, Marina hacked into the Valley database, and she has my file, and... She's offered to show it to me. But I don't want to know." Eight pulls her knees up to her chest. "But... Three."

"Huh?"

"Did..." Her voice is quiet and barely above a whisper. "Did we know each other? Before... Everything? Um, I mean... Well, we fought, but... Do you remember it..?"

"... Yeah," Three breathes after a long pause. "We... Fought. I, uh... You wanna know about it?" Eight hesitates before nodding. "You... Uh, you were... Violent."

"Violent..?" Eight mumbles, cocking her head to the side. "... Is it okay if I ask you to elaborate?"

There's a part of Three that doesn't want to, at all, but she thinks Eight deserves to know.

"You were... Brutal. I don't know how else to describe it. It was near Nantai, and... You almost killed me, and... You seemed so happy about it, too." Three remembers that fight well - too well. She remembers Eight's jagged smile, the unconstrained glee in her eyes, and the bright, blood-colored rings marking her skin. When she looks at the Eight on the ground here, she looks guilty, with slightly-pursed lips and eyes fixated on the floor rather than Three's face, and her rings are hidden, not glowing and the same color as her skin.

"... I'm sorry, Three," she says quietly, resting her head on her knees. "I... Do you hate me for that?"

"No." Three doesn't think she could ever hate Eight. In the end, they were all doing what they were told. Yet... At the same time, there was something odd about that encounter. Eight was... Alone. And for someone who is, apparently, the most hated inkling in the underground, it seemed strange to send only one octoling after her, no matter that octoling's training. And on top of that, Eight didn't really look like she was looking for Three in the first place. Was Eight trying to escape then, too..? Three doesn't really understand it. Three doesn't think she ever will. "I'd never hate you, Eight."

"Four did," Eight says softly. "Four wanted me dead. She told me she did. And... I don't blame her for it. If I were in her position, I'd hate me too. I can't imagine how I'd feel if I were in yours."

"I knew what I was signing up for," Three replies, and it's only a half-lie. Truth be told, once the Zapfish was back, she had the option to leave the NSS. Four had begged her to leave it, too, because it was dangerous. Because every time Four saw her, she had a new cut, a new scrape. Three knew it hurt her, seeing her like that, but she had to do it. If Three didn't do it, no one else would, right? And that would be her mark on the world. It would give her insignificant, worthless life meaning. "It's okay, Eight. If I was scared of getting hurt, I wouldn't have done this for two years."

"I... But, it doesn't matter if you're scared of it. What matters is that you were. " Eight pushes herself off the ground and walks over to Three. Her thumbs hook under the bottom of Three's shirt, and she looks at her, waiting for approval. Three nods and Eight rolls it up. Her fingers lightly trace the raised, blueish scars littering her torso, winding and twisting. The largest one, the one that's slightly faded yet so much darker than all the others no matter how much lightening cream she uses, starts at her leftmost heart and curves down below her bottom-right gill slit. She runs her thumb over it once, twice - then bends down and kisses it. A second passes and Three feels something wet on her skin. Two more and then Eight pulls away, and-

"Eight... Are you crying?" Three bends forward, cupping her face in her hands. She wipes away some of her tears, only for more to fall.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaking and wavering and breaking. "I'm so, so sorry, Three."

"It's okay, Eight," Three comforts, and she's not lying this time. "It's okay."

"You're too good for me," she murmurs, sniffling. "I don't... I don't get it."

"I should be the one saying that," Three mumbles, meaning every word. "Eight... I really like you. A lot. And... You know, there's no one else I'd rather date."

"Not even Four?" she asks.

Three shakes her head 'no.' "Definitely not. We're both bottoms, there's no way that'd work out."

Eight laughs the laugh Three loves to hear. "Duly noted," she mumbles. "And... You too. I don't want to date anyone else."

"Not Four?"

"Too much Carly Mantaray."

Three laughs. "Yeah... You're right."

"Oh, um... Three?" Eight lifts a hand off the bed to bed to grab one of Three's longer tentacles. "What... Do the colors mean?"

"Uh..." Three looks down at it. There's a rippling pattern of yellows and pinks atop a mass of blotches in Eight's purple. "The purple is your ink, and it's there because... I like you. Um, the yellow is because I'm happy, and... Pink is... Romantic."

"I make you happy..?" Eight asks, softly rubbing circles into the limb. The parts that she touches turn her color before fading back to yellow and pink. Three nods. "I'm... I'm glad."

Three tilts Eight's head up and gently kisses her forehead. Eight giggles softly.

"Did you just giggle?" she asks, pulling away.

Eight blushes in her hands and Three can feel the warmth. "No."

"You did..!" Three laughs and presses another kiss to Eight's forehead. She feels her face grow hotter in her grasp. "You nerd."

"I'm not a nerd, you butt..!" lies the nerd. "Giggling is for stupid butts like you." Eight punctuates it by forcefully poking Three in the cheek.

"Wroooooong," protests Three.

"Riiiiiiiiiiight," counters Eight.

"Nooooo."

"Yeeeees."

"Iiiiiiincorrect."

Eight responds by making a few noises that probably don't mean anything in any language then gently bonks her head against Three's stomach. "Bleh."

"... Bleh," Three repeats.

Eight nods against her stomach. "Bleh."

"Bleh..."

The final 'bleh' hangs heavy in the air until Eight slowly breathes out and pushes herself off Three.

"And where are you going?" Three asks.

"I'm going to go shower," Eight says, standing up. She pulls her shirt off and drops it to the ground. The part of Three's brain that wants to have a shred of dignity is yelling at her to look away, but the louder, gayer part of her is still freaking out because eight is shirtless and she is Right There dear god? and that part of her is the one that wins this fight. "Do you want to come with?"

"What," Three breathes because she thinks she heard that incorrectly. "Uh. Repeat that?"

Eight laughs and Three thinks she died for a moment because there's no way a laugh that wonderful could ever exist on Earth.

"Do you want to shower with me?" she asks again, and no Three doesn't pinch herself, that's stupid. "I smell like sweat and ink, and you smell like sweat and burning. And... I missed you today, and I wanna spend some time with you."

"Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes, sure, I am, uh, one hundred percent down, uh, but like, I don't wanna impose, because I don't want to, and, you know, are you comfy with that kind of thing, like, I am, don't get me wrong, but-" Three stops babbling when Eight laughs again.

"Oh, Three," she murmurs, "Never change."

"Sorry," Three mumbles, looking down at the ground. "But, uh... You're serious..?"

"Three, please. I'm not asking you to have sex with me."

Three looks up from the carpet briefly to make eye contact with Eight and then she gets a fun slew of mental images she REALLY didn't need right now holy fuck but still it's not like that's a thing Three thinks about a lot, like, it's kind of low on the list of Eight-related things Three thinks about a lot, like, item five out of seventeen, which doesn't seem that low now that she says it but she swears the top four are like 65% of the theoretical pie chart this would make, and item five is like, 10%, and the other twelve there are about, like, other things that escape Three right now, but, guh, that's not- this isn't- this totally isn't FAIR damn you eight-

"I..." Three says in a voice much smaller than she wants it to be, "I wasn't... I didn't think you were, I just, um..."

"You just what?" Eight asks, cocking her head slightly. Three bites her lip. "... Ah. Forget it. Are you coming?"

"Um... Yeah, I'll... Just, gimme a mo..." Three's voice trails off as Eight continues to undress. "... Oh."

"Arteth thou enraptured with thineth beauty... Eth?" Eight asks. The part of Three that is a theater kid should be very mad at the linguistic slaughter Eight just committed but Three just. She. Guh. Fuh...

**gorl...**

"... Three..?" Eight takes a few steps closer, concern evident on her face. "Are you... Okay?"

Three hears a noise that's kind of like "Ghughfubgughg..." and belatedly realizes that it's her making that noise. Eight gingerly lays a hand down on her leg and then suddenly the world is very tall and Three is very flat.

"... Three, come on. I'm not even naked," Eight says in an attempt to console her but those are the Words, the Bad Words, because Three is, she, **gorl...**"Can you... Shift back for me? Please? You're going to get ink everywhere."

Three is still trying to process everything when Eight sighs and scoops up all one-hundred and twelve pounds of squid and unceremoniously hoists her over her shoulder again. And that is really not helping the situation because, **gorl, strong, Gorl,...**

"... You're kind of heavy," she comments, oblivious to Three's plight. "Squishy, too."

Three responds by continuing to be a squid.

Eight kicks open the bathroom door and sets Three down on the ground with a small grunt. She gingerly steps over her squiddy body and leaves the room. About a minute later, and she comes back with a bunch of towels, opting to set them down on the sink counter.

Three decides to continue being a gay squid.

Eight eventually turns the water on and sighs at Three, who is still being a squid. She grabs one of the towels and wraps it around herself as she waits for either to water to fill the tub or Three to stop being gay and stupid.

Eventually, Three calms down enough to pop back into humanoid form. And... Ah. Shit. She's still clothed.

"You know, you don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable," Eight says. She takes her tentacles out of their ponytail, and the long one towards the top of her head droops down over her right eye.

"I... I want to, it's just... You know." She fumbles with her pants as she goes to remove them. "... I guess I'm just nervous."

"I won't judge, Three. I like you. You know that." Three can feel Eight's eyes on her as she continues to undress. "Even if you kick my ass in Monopoly."

"It's a game that requires skill." Now nude, Three awkwardly holds her mound of moderately filthy clothes. "And, um... Where do you want me to put these..?"

"Just leave them in the other room somewhere. It doesn't really matter." Three nods and stands up.

Nudging the door open with her foot, she looks around the room briefly before deciding to just put them down on the wall next to the door.

Reentering the bathroom, she makes eye contact with Eight. Three feels her face warm and she just feels... Exposed. Which, in a way, she... She is,but...

Eight removes the towel. Three's face warms even more and she decides to stare at the tile.

She hears the fabric ruffle as Eight folds it and sets it back with the rest.

"It's ready," Eight tells her. Three nods and looks over to see Eight stepping into the bath. Towards the side of it are two small hand towels draped over the edge.

... What the fuck? That's a giant fucking bathtub.

"It's huge," Three mumbles. Eight shrugs. "Why..?"

"I don't know. I didn't make it. You should see the one in Pearl's room, honestly."

Three doesn't even want to imagine.

Gingerly, she steps in and hastily grabs the side of the tub when she feels herself slip.

"Careful..!" Eight warns, leaning forward to grab Three's hips as she steadies her. The sudden contact causes Three to slip again, but she luckily doesn't fall. "... Gods, Three, you're a mess."

"... Shut up." Slowly, she sinks into the water. It's warm, although not as hot as Three prefers. It's better than freezing cold water, at the very least. "Um, so..." Three shifts awkwardly, unsure if she should try and cover up or not, or...

"Do you mind if I wash you?" Eight asks. Three was expecting the question, but that doesn't stop her from blushing more. "Or... Not."

"No, it... It's fine. Go... Ahead." Eight gives her a somewhat concerned look. "... Really. It's fine."

"... Okay." Eight grabs one of the hand towels and pushes it beneath the water. "Come closer?"

Three scoots towards her.

Eight pulls the cloth out of the water and uncaps a bottle of body wash. Three can't see the label without her glasses, but it's pink and it smells vaguely like flowers when Eight pours it out. She lathes it and gently takes one of Three's arms and starts to wash it.

Slowly, Three starts to relax, letting her posture loosen as she slouches more. Eight's free hand hooks around Three's neck and gently taps at her siphon, causing her to jump.

"Your posture's awful," she chides. Three rolls her eyes. "I'm serious! You're going to look like Mr. Cuttlefish before you're twenty."

"Okay, Mom." Eight sighs. "What? It's fine. I'm not dead."

"You'll wish you were, though."

"Already do," she jokes. Eight glares at her. "Fine, fine, sheesh..."

Eight cups some of the water in her hand and then washes the soap off Three's arm. "Don't joke about that."

"... Okay."

Eight gently scrubs at the skin on Three's neck. The washcloth comes back covered in Three's make-up, which formerly hid the hickeys Eight left.

"Three, did you... Paint your skin?" Eight looks at the towel and then back at Three.

"It's make-up. Generally speaking, hickeys aren't... Y'know. Professional to just have... Hanging out."

"Do you want me to stop giving you them, then?" Eight cocks her head slightly.

"No," Three says maybe a little too fast. "They're not hard to hide, anyways."

"If you're just going to hide them, what's the point in getting them, then?"

"... They feel nice," she mumbles. Eight's quiet for a few seconds and then she shrugs.

"I mean... I guess that's an answer." Eight swishes the rag around in the water, rinsing the make-up off, and then pours some more soap on it and continues. "Oh, so... Are you wearing make-up on your face, too? Should I wash your face?" Eight asks, holding up the washcloth. Without waiting for her response, she presses it to Three's face and gently scrubs at it.

Wrinkling her nose, Three pulls her head back and nearly falls over. "Are you trying to fucking smother me?!" she snaps, but Eight only laughs and kisses her rather soapy nose. A second later and Eight wipes her mouth, grimacing slightly.

"It doesn't taste as good as it smells..." she mumbles.

"What the fuck, Eight?" Eight blushes. "Did- What the hell did you think it'd taste like?"

"Um... Not that." Three snickers. "Don't laugh at me, you meanie..!"

Three takes the opportunity to laugh a very exaggerated three-pronged laugh at her. Eight wipes the rest of the soap off Three's nose with one smooth swipe and then jams the soapy finger in Three's mouth.

"... Three? What's that thingy?"

"The what?"

Eight pulls her mouth open and taps at her tongue piercing. "What is that?" she asks, moving her hands off Three's face.

"It's a tongue piercing." Eight furrows her brow. "I usually put in a clear retainer since it's out of dress code for where I work."

"Oh." Eight looks over the rest of Three. "Are all the other metal thingies piercings, too?"

Three nods.

"That's... A lot," she comments. "You got your gill slits pierced, too? Why?"

"I got the ones behind my ear pierced first." Three turns her head to let Eight see. "But then the sound was warped, except only in that part. And I really hated that, so I got the rest pierced."

"... Didn't it hurt?"

"Yeah. They hurt like hell." She thought the ones behind her ears were bad, but the slits on her torso hurt waaaay more. For a few days, even moving was painful. "I made the mistake of getting all twelve done at once."

"Twelve?" Three nods. Eight purses her lips. "... How many do you have?"

"Uh..." Eighteen total gill piercings, one stud in her nose, her tongue piercing, the two piercings in her left ear... "I think... Twenty-two?"

"Three. Why." She shrugs. "That's so many."

"I guess. They're barely visible, though."

Eight rolls her eyes. "Yeah, so what's the point?"

"Well, I know they're there. And I like them."

She sighs quietly. "Fine. I guess that almost makes sense." Eight hesitates before moving the washcloth again. "Is it okay if I wash your gills, or are they sensitive?"

"Just don't tear them." Eight nods and gently washes them, being overly careful. Eventually, she finishes, and washes the soap off.

Silence settles over them as Eight continues to wash her. Once the initial rush of aaaaaa **gorl **wears off, it's... Peaceful. Relaxing. Three needs something like this after everything today, she thinks, even if she didn't do any intense physical work, everything that happened today was... Tiring. And... Maybe Three missed Eight after all. ... But only maybe.

...

Fine.

She did.

... Maybe.

"... There," Eight says finally, washing the rest of the soap off Three's back. "All done."

Three turns back around to face Eight. "Thanks," she mumbles. Eight responds by gently patting her head. "Here, do you... Want me to do you?"

"... If you could, that'd be great," Eight replies quietly. Three takes the cloth from her hand and washes the soap out, wrings it, then takes the bottle of body wash and lathers it. "I'm still kinda sore from earlier..."

Huh..?

Oh.

"You went turfing today, right?" She nods. "How was it?"

Three scoots closer and decides to start with Eight's arms.

"It wasn't bad. I think I might get accepted."

"You tried out?"

"Mh."

"Did you win?"

"Most of them."

"Was Dana there?"

"Mh."

"She's a bitch, right?"

"Mm-mm."

"... Seriously?"

"Mh." Eight yawns as Three moves to her other arm. "She's nice. Why?"

"Because she's a bitch?"

Eight laughs quietly. "There was another potential recruit. He's an octoling. His name's Lucas."

"Is he nice?"

"We didn't talk much."

"Was he... Y'know. Weird?"

"Um... He gave me a weird look when we first met by the lockers. He seemed a bit wary after our first match." She sighs quietly. "I don't know why."

"I'm sure he'll come around." Hopefully they'll learn that Eight is... Relatively harmless. Or nice, at the very least. Maybe Eight was 'bad' once, but Three knows she's changed. "Other than that, everything was okay?"

"Mhm."

Once Eight's arms are clean, Three moves onto her torso.

"Oh, Eight..." Three gently taps at a green mark on her side, right below her lowest gill slit. "Is that from today?"

"Yeah," she mumbles, lifting her arm slightly as Three inches closer. "There was this stupid Carbon Roller."

"Did you win at least?" she asks, looking up at Eight.

"They got a knockout," Eight grumbles. "The Carbon Roller hit me in the last few seconds, like, really hard..."

Three pours some more soap onto the washcloth. Eight moves her arm out of the way, expecting Three to scrub at it, only to let out a small squeak when Three kisses it.

"What's that about..?" she asks, blushing.

"I'm kissing it better," Three replies softly, gently rubbing the soapy cloth against Eight's skin. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No. It... Feels nice," Eight admits. She shifts slightly, moving closer. Three could already reach her just fine, but she doesn't mind at all. Three eventually pulls the washcloth away, and the part that she used to wash Eight with is stained green, but it fades once Three swishes it around in the bath water.

She pours some more soap onto it, then lathers it and starts washing Eight again. Silence quickly settles over them again, but it's not awkward. It's just... Comforting. Three knows that she could use some quiet after all the time she spent with Pearl today, and if any of the interactions Three's had with Four over the past twelve years mean anything - and Dana, Tatzelwurm forbid - then Eight would probably appreciate it, too.

"Do you use anything special for your tentacles?" Three asks, finally breaking the silence.

"Oh, um... Yeah," Eight says, taking the bottle of body wash from Three and closing it. "I think it's, like, baby soap, but it's really just because the chemicals in normal soap can burn a little. You know, since... Octarians."

"They, uh... Isn't reproduction through, like... Cuttings, or something..?" Eight nods. "So, um... Can you, like... Y'know."

"What?"

Three feels her face warm. "I- Uh, you... Is it, like, pleasurable, or..?"

"Oh, you're asking if it's erogenous?" Eight asks, cocking her head to the side. Three nods, and Eight shakes her head. "No. That's horrible design."

"I... See." Three bites at her lip. "Do... Do you want me to do it, or..?"

"Um... If you want to, sure? Don't be too rough." Eight pulls a bottle off the shelf, handing it to Three. She squints at the label - apparently it's a gentle mixture used for inklings, from newly-hatched to age four. "It's hard to find any shampoo without tentacle oil mixed it. It hurts, a lot."

"Is, um... Is it okay if I move closer?" she asks. Eight nods. Three moves so that she's sitting between Eight's legs. She hesitates for a moment before moving a leg over Eight's thigh.

"Just sit on my lap," Eight mutters. "... Is this really enough to fluster you?"

"M-Maybe," Three replies hastily, but she still does as Eight says. "Don't you remember what I told you..?"

"Huh?" Three uncaps the bottle, pouring some of the soap into her hand. Eight holds the bottle off to the side while Three lathers it in her hands. "Oh, about... The, quote, 'social pressure things?' Somehow... I feel like this is beyond the average 'social pressure thing.'"

"Yeah, but..." Three sighs, gently running her hands against Eight's tentacles. "Still..! You know what I mean."

Eight dips her head down, resting her face in the crook of Three's neck. When she laughs, Three feels it throughout her entire body. "I know," she murmurs. "I'm just teasing."

"You're an ass." Three rolls her eyes with a small smile. Her thumb brushes against one of the many suckers and it briefly latches onto it. "... Did your hair just kiss me?"

"If you want to think of it like that, sure," she replies. "Maybe it likes you."

"You can control it, can't you?" Eight's free hand moves from the bottom of the tub up to the smaller tentacles on the back of Three's head. She strokes them, claws running against them lightly.

"Kind of," she replies, wrapping the tip of one of them around Three's finger. It caresses the digit as Three pulls her hand away. "Hey, make sure you get the roots."

"Okay." Eight turns her head slightly, pressing a few kisses into Three's neck. "Fuck, are you sure you're not getting off to this?"

She laughs again. "You'd know," she purrs. "You'd know."

Three chooses to ignore the mental image that gives her.

She presses her fingers against the roots as directed. They're much warmer than the rest of Eight's mantle, honestly, and tougher, too. Cutting these had to be a nightmare, right? Well, there's probably some process to it that Three doesn't know...

Eight's hand drops down from her mantle to the top pair of slits on her torso, gently running her thumb over it. A few strokes and then she moves her hand up to Three's face, caressing her cheek.

"What are you even doing, you nerd?" Three asks. Eight mumbles something incoherent into her neck and then kisses it again. "... Was that even Inkling?"

"I really like you," she says quietly. "A lot." Eight pulls away, untangling Three's hands from her mantle. The next kiss she gives Three is on the lips and when Eight breaks it, she's smiling. "The water's getting cold."

"... Yeah," Three agrees with a sigh. She doesn't really want to get out... Eight gently nudges Three back before dunking her head in the water. A few seconds pass and she pulls her head out. She runs a hand through the roots and it comes back soapless.

"Hey... Eight?" Three says quietly as Eight climbs out to go get towels.

Eight looks over her shoulder. "Huh?"

"I really like you a lot, too."

Eight blushes, turning back around. "Thanks," she replies softly. Eight sets a towel down on the counter for Three, who opens the bathtub drain. Three stands up and squeezes some of the excess water off her tentacles. She steps out as it drains, finding a small towel beneath her feet.

"It's so you don't slip," Eight mumbles. Fuck. Three should totally do that at her apartment when she gets the chance. Why didn't she ever think of that.

Eight dries her tentacles before she starts drying the rest of herself, which is, funnily enough, the exact opposite of what Three does.

"Your clothes are dirty, aren't they..?" Eight asks. "Here, I'll lend you some of mine."

"It's fine, Eight," Three mumbles, but Eight's already out of the bathroom. She sighs. Eight's... Nice. Really nice. Three wonders if she deserves someone like Eight, and... She still chalks them getting together up to divine intervention. There's no other way someone like her would ever consider dating her, right?

Eight comes back a moment later with a stack of clothes and sets them next to the sink.

Once she finishes drying herself off, she throws the clothes on and tries not to think too hard about the fact that she's wearing Eight's underwear. Three looks around the bathroom awkwardly, unsure of what to do with the wet towel.

"Um... Eight?" she calls, stepping out into Eight's room. "What do you want me to do with this? Uh- Oh, you're, uh..." Eight looks up. "You're still naked."

"Yes, Three," she says in the tone you use to speak to a dumb idiot toddler. "I am."

"... Why?" she asks, voice small. "Uh... Not that I can, like, stop you, but..."

"I'm putting on lotion?" Right. As if that's the obvious answer. Look at Eight, with her soft, nice skin and shit. What a nerd, and FUCK Three's so gay. "Hey, actually... Can I ask you to put some on my back?"

"What?" Three blinks.

Eight rolls her eyes. "Can you-"

"No, I, um... I heard you, I just..." Three gingerly takes a seat on Eight's bed. She hands Three the bottle - fucking Bath & Body Works cherry blossom, no wonder she's friends with Four - who then uncaps it and squirts a little into her palm. "Just... Rub it in?"

"Do you know how to apply lotion?" and Three can't tell if she's teasing or not.

"Y-Yeah, no, I do, it-" She takes a deep breath. It's fine. This is fine. Three's fine. Eight's fine haha get it? god three's going to die today,

"Thank you," Eight mumbles once Three's hands make contact with her back. She works at a knot in Eight's lower back, and Eight stifles a small moan. Three pauses for a second because there's no way she heard that, right..? Unless Eight's, like, dead set on killing her today, which she's succeeding at and fucking hell Three's going to have some fun dreams THIS week. She's brought out of her thoughts when Eight clears her throat.

"Sorry," Three apologizes. "I just..."

"You're really cute," Eight comments with a laugh as if it's some obvious truth, "You butt."

Fuck, Three didn't think her face could get any hotter. "Uh," she stammers, rubbing the rest of the lotion in. "... Thanks."

Eight hums quietly in acknowledgement.

Three's mostly silent as she works (is it really work if she enjoys it?) as is Eight, with the only noise being the occasional moan when Three gets to an exceptionally sore spot.

"What even happened to you?" she asks.

"I told you," Eight grumbles, "It was that stupid Carbon Roller."

"That's the worst roller, too." Eight nods. "I'm sorry."

"I also got shot point-blank by a Bamboozler," she adds, which is a sentence Three didn't think she'd ever hear. "And then I fell off the bridge on The Reef a few times." There's a faint pink spot that Three couldn't wash out entirely, and Eight flinches away slightly when Three touches it. "That's from a Range Blaster."

"Fucking hell, are you going out of your way to get hit?" Eight laughs. "I'm serious!"

"Aww, are you worried for me, Three?"

"No, totally not. I've never worried at all ever. I don't even have feelings."

"You are..! You totally are, aww... You're adorable." Eight's words send a vibrant wave of yellow down her mantle. "Three..? You know... I'm really, really happy I met you."

"Yeah," she says, voice quiet and barely above a whisper. "I'm happy I met you, too."

When Three finishes up, Eight turns back around and gives Three a smile so sweet she thinks it could give someone diabetes.

"No homo," Eight murmurs fondly, pressing a kiss to Three's lips.

"I-" Three takes a deep breath as she feels her face warm considerably. "I, that's- Eight, that's SO homo. Oh my god."

"No it's not," she mumbles. "I said it wasn't, so it's not."

"That's not how that works!"

"Says who?"

"Me!" she says and there's a squeakiness to her voice that she wishes wasn't there.

Eight laughs and kisses her again. "Fine, then yes homo."

"Where... Where did you even learn that?" Three asks quietly.

"Guess."

"Was it Four again?" Eight nods. Three rolls her eyes. "Typical."

Eight moves forward so she's straddling Three and goddamn if her hearts weren't racing before they are now. She cups Three's head in her hands and tilts it up. Eight laughs, although it's more purr-like than anything, and her breath is minty and cool. Three's is hot and rapid and she can only stare on in awe. "Three..." she starts. "Do you mind if we make it more homo?"

"What..?" Fuck, that's, like, the worst sentence she's ever heard Eight say but god if Three is not intrigued. "I... What?"

"Do you want to make out?" she asks and Three thinks her face is quite literally on fire.

"I, uh- I'm... I'm not opposed to the idea, like, uh, at all, but, um, could you maybe, perchance, put on some underwear, or something?" Eight looks at Three like she's stupid. "... Please?"

"Way to kill the mood..." she mumbles, climbing off Three.

"I- Fuck, it's not like there was much of one to begin with! Seriously, like... 'Do you mind if we make it more homo?' HAS to be, like, the least sexy sentence of all time!" she snaps, crossing her arms.

"Oh, we all know that's not true." Eight slides open a drawer and pulls out a pair of boxers. She slips them on and closes the drawer again. Taking a seat on the bed again, she says, "I saw how you were looking at me. Do you think I'm blind?"

"That's not- Go fuck yourself..!"

"With you right here?" she comments with a laugh. "Please."

"Eiiiiiight," Three whines, burying her head in her hands. "Come on."

"Fiiine," Eight mumbles. "Still, are we, or..? Is the mood, like, irreversibly dead."

"I'm- I'm still down, I swear, but..." Three squints at Eight's boxers. "Are those... Dinosaur print? Is that a red brontosaurus on your crotch?"

Eight sighs. "Am I not allowed to like dinosaurs, Three? Are you judging my taste in underwear?"

"You just... Never struck me as the dinosaur type."

"Maybe I want a stegosaurus on my ass," she huffs. "Look, are we doing this or not?"

"Yes!" Three says too quickly. "Yes, I, uh, yes please."

"You're eager, aren't you?" she teases, straddling Three again.

"You're the one that was groping me the entire time." Three rolls her eyes although she still feels herself blush.

"Groping?" Eight scoffs. "I'll show you groping."

"How charming," Three wants to say, but then Eight kisses her and she finds it hard to care after that.

* * *

Three is exceptionally shirtless when Four walks in.

"Oh," says Four.

Three would nod but she's scared she'd hit Eight in the head with her chin so she opts to give Four a small wave.

Eight mutters a series of syllables that most certainly aren't Inkling but most certainly are vulgar and pulls herself off Three, turning around to face Four.

"Did you need something?" she asks, rings burning blue. "And please knock next time."

"I, uh." Four's grip visibly tightens on the doorknob. "Sorry for interrupting, I just- Uh. Summer, it's, uh... Getting late, so-"

"Oh." Three blinks. "Is that it?"

"Um... Yeah, I... I guess so." Four hovers in the doorway for a few seconds, then awkwardly coughs into her hand. "I, uh. See you soon, or something. Sorry."

Four leaves the room quickly after that, the door shutting behind her with a click.

Eight sighs and sits down on the bed. Three pushes herself up and blindly searches for her shirt.

Something pokes her palm. Looking down, and it's her glasses held by the bridge in Eight's hand. She quietly thanks her and slips them on.

Now that she can see, Three can find the shirt Eight lent her. It's blue and blends in with the sheets. Is blue Eight's favourite color? Eight looks good in blue, at the very least. Or... Eight looks good in everything, which is just unfair.

She slips it on and gets off the bed, finding her jacket on the ground. Three ties it around her waist.

"Oh, Three," Eight starts, facing her dresser and finding something to wear. "Whenever the party is... I'll get your clothes back to you."

"You don't have to, I can take them with me."

"Three... They smell awful." She throws on a shirt. Putting on a pair of shorts, she adds, "I have to do laundry anyways. It won't take any longer."

Three bursts out laughing when Eight turns around.

"Eight, is that a 'Dinosaurs of Inkopolis' shirt?" Eight blushes. "Why are you such a dinosaur nerd?"

"They're CUTE, Three!" she retorts. "They're cute."

"You think I'm cute, too, for some goddamn reason... Are you calling me a dinosaur?"

Eight pauses to think. "... Sure. You're a Grumposaurus."

"What, not a butt this time?"

"Grumposaurus butt, then."

... You know what? Fine. Three will almost accept that.

* * *

When they walk downstairs, Pearl gives Three a glare and her mantle is a mess of blood-blues and blacks. She's not entirely sure what she did to piss Pearl off, honestly, but she flashes her mantle beige, letting stripes of teal and green ripple through it in what she hopes looks like an honest apology.

"Thank you for your help today," Marina says with a small smile. "Really, it means a lot."

"It's nothing," Three mumbles.

"Anytime," replies Four in that fucking 'OOOOOOOOH look at me I'm a functioning member of society' voice. "You said it's Friday at 6:00, right?"

"Mhm." Marina nods. "You'll be able to make it, yes?"

"Yeah. I'm free Friday." Four returns Marina's smile then nods at Three. "We should... Really get going. Sorry we stayed so long."

"It's fine!" If Three looks behind Marina and into the kitchen, she can spy some of the charred countertop. She's sure that's going to be fun to clean. "Really, really, thank you! Any of this wouldn't have been possible without your help."

"Without my help..?" Four says beneath her breath. Three rolls her eyes. At a louder volume, she tells Marina, "It's nothing."

A few more awkward goodbyes and one incredibly awkward hug from Eight that's more like the hug you give your cousin at a family reunion that you don't know very well as opposed to a hug you should probably give someone you're dating and also made out with for a decent amount of time not even five minutes ago later, they're out of the house.

The walk back to Four's car is spent in silence. Three can hear crickets chirping and the air is cool against her skin. The sky is a medley of oranges and pinks, bleeding into the dark purples of the night sky.

"... So," Four says eventually. Her voice is low, her posture stiff. "You and Eight, uh..."

"Hmm?" Three blinks at her lazily. Ripples of sea green turn to waves, languid and slow as they pulse through her mantle. Their hands brush as they walk - Pearl's driveway is disgustingly huge - but Three never takes it, no matter how much she longs to.

A footstep - Four's shoe against stone. At the same time - Three's footstep, in harmony like they've always been.

Once more, their hands brush. If Three takes it, is she betraying Eight? But Three doesn't want anything romantic with Four. She wants what they have now - what they had? She wants intimacy, but different intimacy than what she could have with Eight no matter how similar they look on the surface. She wants to hold Four's hand, she wants to be close, even if it's in silence - especially if it's in silence. She wants to rest her head against Four's chest, hearing the soft sounds of her breathing and the rhythmic drumming of her hearts - just them in their own little world, just them in their moment outside of time.

When she thinks about it like that, it sounds romantic. But she doesn't want that. Not now, at least. Maybe never. But Three can remember kissing Four, and she remembers the vanilla taste to her mouth, the softness to her lips, contrasting Three's mouth with the burning smokiness of alcohol and her chapped sandpaper lips that bled when she smiled. She remembers those times, and she really just thinks she feels repulsed.

But she also remembers Four's smiles, pretty but never delicate, charmingly gentle, or even the light dusting of color to her cheeks right now, and all she feels is fondness.

Whatever they are... They don't need a name.

They're just them.

"... Summer?" Four's hand still brushes against hers when she lifts it to wave it in front of Three's face. "... Are you okay? You... Zoned out for a bit."

"I love you," Three mumbles. The words are soft, almost tender, but they're genuine, most of all. With that, she finally takes her hand. Three feels at home in moments like these in a way she can't describe, in a way she could never describe.

That's what she's always been to Three.

Home.

Four chokes on her words as her face flushes dark turquoise.

"Um... Thanks. I love you too." Her words send a particularly vibrant surge of her color down Three's mantle. "... You weren't listening to anything I said, huh?"

"No," Three admits.

"Jeez..." She sighs. "I'm just... Y'know, sorry I interrupted you. I just... I didn't think you guys would be moving that fast."

"... Huh?"

"You two were fucking, right? Or... Close to it."

Three feels her face warm once she realizes what Four said.

"No," she mumbles. "We- We weren't anywhere close..!"

"I mean... It looked like it." Four's car beeps when she unlocks it. "So excuse me for coming to that conclusion."

"Wait... When you went back downstairs, what did you tell Off the Hook?" When Four refuses to meet her gaze, she sighs. "Oh, you're shitting me."

"I'm sorry, Summer, forgive me for assuming that the two pashing, almost-naked lesbians were going to fuck."

Three snorts as she gets in the car. "Sometimes I forget you're from Macquasia. You don't sound it."

"What the fuck, do you want me to bring a didgeridoo everywhere I go?" she asks, rolling her eyes.

"No, I just-" Three sighs. "Whatever. But was that why Pearl was pissed?"

"What..?" It takes her a moment. The opening notes to Warm Ink start playing and Three makes the executive decision to turn the radio off. "Oh, probably. You know... She's a lot more protective than I thought she'd be."

"What's she going to do, yell me to death?" Three thinks the idea is funny until she remembers the news clips roughly three months ago, catching shaky footage of the NILS statue with the audio clipping out when Pearl screamed. "Or..."

"She might." Three sucks in an inward breath. "Hey, is your throat okay?"

"Yeah. Still a little sore, but I'm okay." She laughs quietly. "Shit, it's almost like you care."

"Of course I care, idiot," Four mutters.

"I bet I care more." Four stops looking at the road to briefly give Three a tired look. Three sticks her tongue out at her.

She turns to face the road again. "Put that away, that's disgusting."

Three exaggerates the gesture with a small noise. Without looking, Four raises a hand and jabs her in the tongue piercing.

"There's no way you care more, you friggin' dolt." Three 'hmph's indignantly.

"Yeah? I'll make you scrambled eggs with tofu, because that's how you like them."

"I'll marathon the Sea Slug Buddies with you and I won't tease you when you cry."

"Oh really? Then I'll do your make-up because I'm better with eyeliner than you are."

"Then I'll- I'll clean your shitty roller!" A few seconds of tense silence pass before they both start laughing.

Quietly, Four asks, "I'm guessing you want to spend the night at my place, then?"

"Please?"

She laughs again. It's sharp and about as melodious as a child playing an instrument for the first time.

Three loves it.

"Okay," Four agrees. "But you're buying lunch the next time we go out."

"Fine."

(When she wakes up the next morning, the shirt she's wearing smells like both Eight and Four.)

(It's perfect.)


	13. 2-8 Eight gets some gifts

"Eight, you understand the rules from now on?" Pearl asks sternly, hand on her hip.

"Yes, "Eight, you understand the rules from now on?" Pearl asks sternly, hand on her hip.

"Yes, Pearl," Eight replies. She sighs quietly and rolls her eyes. "Seriously, it-"

"Repeat them," she demands.

"... What?"

"Repeat the rules. I want to make sure you know them." Eight searches Pearl's face for any traces of irony, only to find nothing. "C'mon."

She sighs dramatically this time.

"Rule one: I am not supposed to be left in a room with Three unsupervised."

"And?"

"... And if we are in the same room together, there is supposed to be no less than my arm's length of distance between us."

Pearl nods slowly. "Continue."

"Rule two: we are not to do anything sexual in nature before four months into our relationship." Pearl makes a small 'go on' motion. "... Once we've passed that point, a document must be signed by both you and her parent, or, if a parent is unavailable, Mr. Cuttlefish must sign."

"... Good," Pearl says after a long pause. "Rule three."

"Pearl, rule three is... Unnecessary." Pearl gives her a Look. Eight rolls her eyes. "It is."

"Pearlie," Marina mumbles from the dining table, not looking up from her laptop. "Even _we_ didn't follow these rules. Bump it down to... Three months at least."

"Reena. Hush. I'm trying to keep Eight safe."

Marina looks like she's going to say something but then sighs and shakes her head. "Okay, Pearlie."

"Rule three," she says again.

Eight sighs. "When-"

"_If,"_ Pearl corrects. "If."

"_If,"_ she starts, "We have sex, we have to use a condom." Pearl continues giving her the look. "... And lube, for whatever reason."

"What do you _mean,_ for whatever reason? It's _important_ and I don't want you to get _hurt,"_ she huffs.

"... But why a condom? Pearl, I literally cannot get her pregnant."

"Ah, don't you have a, uh..." Pearl makes a small series of hand motions. "A..."

{Depositor?} Eight offers. Pearl nods. "... That's not how that works."

"... Why not?" Eight and Marina share a glance. "... Y'know what, never mind." Pearl clears her throat. "Rule four?"

"There's not a rule four," Eight says slowly. "You're not adding a rule four."

"I can and I _will."_ Eight struggles to hide the glow of her rings. "Hey. Don't blue at me, I'm doing this to keep you safe."

"I... Appreciate that. Really, I do, but... It's fine, Pearl, really."

She shakes her head 'no.' "Look, Eight. I know you don't want to hear it, but Three is still untrustworthy." Eight cocks an eyebrow. "Don't eyebrow at me either. What if she has an STD or something?"

"A what?"

"Sexually transmitted disease," Marina explains, voice flat. "It's, ah... _Cestodas a deposos."_

Eight chews at the inside of her cheek as she thinks. "... Three wouldn't have worms."

Pearl visibly double-takes. "You get _worms? _Worms on your crotch?"

"In," Marina corrects, and Pearl blanches. "From what I've heard - not from experience, type B's are designated removal rather than donor - they burrow beneath the protective membrane on the outsi-"

"OKAY," Pearl interrupts. "Okay. Okay. Dick worms. Got it. I don't want- I don't _need_ to know any more. Okay. Look. Three won't have crotch worms though I wouldn't put it past her, but-"

"She doesn't," Eight comforts. Pearl gives her a Look. "... It smells."

This time, Pearl retches.

"It's not like they hurt," Marina mumbles. "Still a health hazard, but if they're caught early you don't need any surgery..."

"Reena," she begs. "Please. Stop fucking talking."

"What? It's not like you have a depositor anyways, even if they look similar..." Marina shakes her head, brushing a tentacle out of her face. "Anyways, I don't think Eight really _needs_ all of those rules. They're excessive, and I'm sure Eight knows how to navigate a relationship... Isn't it better to let them move at their own pace?"

Pearl makes a soft series of 'hmm' noises with her hand on her chin as if she's some sort of cool detective and not someone who thinks mayo is okay to eat out of a bowl by itself. After a decently-sized period of Thinking Sounds and squinting at Eight, she shakes her head. "No."

"Whyyy?" Eight whines, rings flashing bright blue for a second before dimming down. "Pearl, I'm... Literally an adult. I saved the world, you know."

"I'm more adult than you," she retorts, rolling her eyes. "And I _also_ helped in the world saving."

"Fine, but _Marina's_ younger than you and I know for a fact you didn't follow any of those rules you just told me!" She sighs. "I know you want me to be safe or whatever, but I'm capable of taking care of myself. At least... When it comes to Three. You trust me, right..?"

Pearl opens her mouth to speak but then closes it. She glares at Eight before her gaze softens, then sighs softly.

"... Fine. I'll get rid of the written consent thing, but I just... I don't want you to get hurt." Gingerly, she takes Eight's hand in hers. Her hands are so tiny in comparison to Eight's own, and so... Delicate. Pearl's lived a life of luxury, after all. Yes, they're calloused from her dualies, but they're not scarred, not at all. Her fingers gently trace the pale purple scars littering Eight's hand as she looks back up at her. "You've been through a lot, Eight. I... I worry about you. That's all."

"... Thank you, Pearl," Eight mumbles as she gently slips her hand out of Pearl's grip. "I... Appreciate it."

"It's nothi-"

The doorbell rings. Pearl's head snaps towards the door and, at a volume much louder than normal, yells, "COMING!"

Eight's ears also ring. And her rings, those burn. The doorbell, though, that stays unburned and uncharred.

... Unlike their microwave.

_Thank_ you, Marina.

"Eight, you use the Octo Shot Replica, right?" Marina asks, closing her laptop and slipping it into its bag. She slings it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just wondering," is her response, which is stupid and vague and obviously a lie. Why does Marina need to know, though? Unless... She actually _is_ just wondering...

_Hm..._

"Okay."

A few seconds of silence pass and Eight feels really awkward, so she turns around and pokes her head into the foyer.

"Oh, there she is!" Pearl exclaims with a grin. It's practiced, Eight knows. "Hey, Three and Four are here."

Oh! That they are. Both are carrying, um... Something. Two somethings. One something for each, in fact. Boxes! Wrapped in, uh... _Stuff._

Three's box is a little shabbier than Four's... And also smaller. The paper is a little crinkled and more bunched-up in spots. Eight can also spy an ungodly amount of tape on the bottom of it. It's white, with a small pink floral pattern on it, and a sort of tacky red bow slapped on top of it. If Eight tried to set it down so that the ribbon faced upwards, it would roll a little on the side that's probably supposed to be the bottom.

Four's box, on the other hand, looks professional. It's flatter than Three's, but still longer. And also still a box, except it's rectangular. The paper is white, just like how Three's is, but it has a golden swirl pattern on it instead of flowers. There's no ribbon on it, though, but there _is_ a small paper label stuck to it. In neat black handwriting are the words 'To: Eight' and 'From: Four' on it. That's a nice touch... Eight still kind of prefers the tacky bow.

Eight didn't actually think people _wrapped_ their gifts. She thought it was another fake thing, like coupons or high school spirit weeks, something only made up for movies and the like.

"Eight, hey!" Four gives her a wave and a smile that looks not fake. Take notes, Pearl. "Sorry, are we early, or..?"

"It's 6:00 PM," Three mutters. "On the dot, actually." Looking up from her phone, she gives Eight a tiny wave. "Uh... Howdy."

Something about Three looks off, but she can't exactly place it. Her mask's never looked so defined, though... Maybe it's the nose piercing? She got rid of the stud and replaced it with a ring... But that's not quite it, either.

"Three, Four, hi!" Eight rushes over and crushes both of them in a hug. Or... Well, she hugs Four and crushes Three, probably, because Three lets out a loud series of stammers, or... No, a noise that's kinda similar to "Gughgnfffffshhshsh..." or something like that. Maybe a little dishwashier. Pearl clears her throat - rule one. Eight swears beneath her breath and takes a step back. "Um... How have you guys been?" Pearl tried teaching Eight the manners of hosting before..! But, you know, they're... They're boring. Eight's sort of regretting not paying attention to her lesson right now, though. "Ah, do you need me to take your jackets or anything..?"

Three pauses and looks over at Four. Because Four is the only wearing a jacket. Haha... Crap.

"Oh, I'm alright," she replies. "Thank you though!"

It's at moments like these where Eight sort of kind of wishes Tartar exploded the word, because she wouldn't have to live with these kinds of mistakes.

But.

Ahem.

ANYWAys,

"We've been alright, I guess," Three says with a shrug. "Fucking Justin almost set the scones on fire, though."

"What's a scone?" Eight asks. "Pearl never lets us get any since she says they suck."

"But they do!" she snaps. "Scones are the _worst."_

From the other room, Marina calls, "Pearlie, it's cute that you think that!"

"They're, uh... Some kind of baked good," Three explains. "They're not my favourite, but they're not bad."

"They're _great,_ Eight. Don't listen to them," Four says lowly, placing a hand on Eight's shoulder. It is at this exact moment that Eight realizes she can literally be closer to Four than Three. You know, Three.

Her _girlfriend._

... Whatever. It's _fine._

"Hey, uh... Pearl?" Three holds up her present. "Where should I put this?"

"Oh, uh... I'll take that," she replies, walking over. Three hands her the box and Pearl looks at Four expectantly. After a moment of hesitation, Four gives Pearl her gift. "Cool. Thanks."

"So, um..." Eight shifts where she stands. "Did Pearl tell you about the rules too?"

Three scowls and sighs with a small nod. "They're stupid as hell." She rolls her eyes. "I have to get my mother's blessing to eat you out?"

"To... To _what?"_ Three bites her lip as her cheeks tinge orange. "Three, are you a _cannibal?"_

Four starts cackling.

"Never mind," Three mutters hastily, her blush growing in intensity. "Why don't we-"

"You can't just say that kind of shit and move on," Four interrupts, slinging an arm over Three's shoulder. "It's when you-"

Three punches her.

Four shoves Three off her and glares at her. "What the _fuck,_ Summer?"

"I didn't bite you this time," is all she says.

What..?

"Three, you _bite_ people?" Three pauses and shrugs. "Why?"

"She fucking bites me all the time," Four grumbles, rubbing at the spot where Three hit her. "And her beak is hooked and disgustingly sharp so I pretty much always end up bleeding."

Ooookay, that's a _little_ odd... Oh, wait, if they bleed, then they scar, right? Would it... Be a stretch if..?

"Four?" Eight tilts her head to the side slightly, furrowing her brow in thought. "Is that what..." Eight taps at her bottom lip and Four mirrors the action before her eyes go wide. "Is that what that's from?"

"NO," she says hastily, covering her mouth with her hand. "It's not. I told you, she, uh. She punched me, or something, yes."

Eight shifts her gaze over to Three, whose face is equally flushed. "Yep. I punched her real good. It was a punch, from my hand, from _my_ hand, on her face, not my face, and it wasn't from my face either, mhm."

"... You can tell me the truth. I won't judge."

"You don't think it's dumb of us?" Three blurts out. Four kicks her. "Shit, sorry, it-"

"You're also really bad liars," Eight explains. "I _promise_ I won't tell anyone, but... Three bit you? First of all, _when,_ and secondly, did you have to go to the hospital or something? There is a literal piece of your flesh missing."

"Err... Yeah, it was, like... Right after we stopped dating, I guess?" Four rubs at her arm. "Uh... We were, like, fifteenish, I wanna say? She was drunk-"

"Like _you_ weren't?" Three scoffs. Four glares at her. "I'm just saying."

"Fine, _we_ were drunk and she was in hysterics over being a bad kisser, so I decided to... Teach her, and then I think she was trying to be sexy or something, and she, uh... Bit me, but _waaaay_ too hard." Four sighs, still blushing. "And we couldn't, like, just explain what was happening because like I said, we were drunk, and that was fairly illegal, so I hid in a puddle of ink for a bit while Three cried in the bathroom."

Eight looks over at Three for some sort of confirmation. When Three nods, Eight sighs.

"That's... That's kind of pathetic, actually," she says quietly. "And- Wait, _after_ you stopped dating?"

"Yeees..?" Four nods slowly. "We only dated a little in freshman year, really. It was too awkward."

"You're... Telling me you're not dating now?"

Three buries her head in her hands and lets out a quiet series of syllables that are too muffled to discern but are probably vulgar nonetheless. Four, on the other hand, makes a noise similar to an Octocopter being punted across the room as she chokes on her own spit.

"Eight, _we_ are dating," Three finally says. "Four and I get people mistaking us for a couple a lot, but I didn't think _you_ of all people would..."

"No, really, you... You guys aren't?" Three gives her a flat look. "You guys are actually just friends?"

"I want to go home," Three states, crossing her arms.

"Well, having multiple partners was pretty common back in Domes... So long as you love them equally, it's not like it matters, and it makes it easier if one of them dies, I guess." Judging by the look of vague horror that the two of them are giving her, Eight assumes that death is probably not as much of a problem on the surface and that simply loving other people out of fear that your loved one could be dead the next day is a little odd. That being said, she just shrugs a little and offers a small smile. "Cultural differences, I guess!"

"That's... A hell of a difference," Four mumbles. "But... Yeah, polymorous people exist here, but it's not super widespread. Also I think I'd rather die than kiss Three again."

"Well, I mean... If you ignore all the kissing and stuff, you two are practically dating."

"... If we ignore all the romantic stuff, we are romantically involved?" Three asks dryly. How dare she mock Eight! "I get what you're trying to say, but... Come on."

"There's more than that, though..." In July, right after the Kamabo incident, Three had become Four's unofficial shadow. Three was... So incredibly passive too. And Four was, for lack of a better term, aggressive. No, not quite aggressive, maybe... Protective. That's the word Eight's thinking of. She was snappy and stressed, more likely than not, and probably over Three. Or... Mostly over Three. But Eight remembers catching moments of the two when they thought they were alone in the Cabin, moments where Three was curled up in Four's arms and crying, moments when Four was soft, when she was vulnerable, when... When Eight knew they hated her.

When Eight knew it was her fault.

Realizing she had zoned out for a bit, Eight shakes her head slightly and forces herself to smile again. "Just... Never mind, actually. Sorry, that's just my bad."

"Sooo, wait, when we were shopping, were you hitting on me?" Four asks.

"... I don't think so, no." Four goes quiet and nods slowly. "I mean, you're pretty, don't get me wrong, but..."

"No, no, I get it..." Four clears her throat, blushing slightly. "I was just kind of wondering, that's all."

"Okay." A part of Eight wonders if Four was disappointed by her answer. Another part wonders why she cares either way. "Uh, so... How have things been since we last saw each other?"

"I... Haven't done a whole lot," Eight admits. "Pearl taught me how to scramble an egg, if it counts?"

"How much mayo did she ask you to put in?" Three asks. Eight catches a small strip of blue flash on her mantle.

"None, actually." Her mantle flashes yellow-green for a second. "They came out okay, but I added too much salt."

"Huh," is the response Eight gets. "Okay."

"Yep." Hm. Well, Eight failed the convoluted and difficult task of small talk! It seems that the only answer now is death.

...

Wow...

Silence...

... Sure is awkward...

...

...

... _Really _awkward...

...

Hm...

... Eight is seriously considering jobs in the 'not being alive' industry...

"... Are you guys okay?"

Eight practically jumps out of her skin as she turns around to see Pearl. She's hovering in the doorway with her hand on her hip. Eight opts to give her a small wave.

"Don't you remember what I told you, Eight? Come on." Eight rolls her eyes and Pearl sighs. "Here, come in."

Pearl leads them into the dining room, a room that they rarely ever use since it's fit to seat about twelve people and there are barely three in their house. It looks a lot less formal than it usually does, which is good. It... Also happens to look a lot like a children's birthday party, but whatever.

In the corner of the room is a cleared-off table that used to hold important stuff like Vases that Aren't Holding Anything and Candles. On that cleared-off table are the two gifts that Three and Four brought. Cool beans! Oh, and... A yellow plastic bag that's not a gift. Still, cool beans! _Very_ cool beans.

"... Do you need us to do anything?" Three asks.

Pearl furrows her brow as she thinks and then shakes her head 'no'. "Just chill out here, I guess. And... I had a question I wanted to ask you. Can't remember it right now, though."

"You were mad about something Three said," Eight offers. "But I tuned you out, so I don't know either."

Pearl sighs again. "Great."

"Something _I_ said..?" Three mutters beneath her breath as if no one is supposed to hear it.

"Did you say something, Three?" Pearl frowns slightly when Three shakes her head. "Fine. The food's not done yet, but it should be soon. Hopefully the others get here before then."

"The others..?" What others? Marina only said Three and Four were coming... "Pearl, what do you mean?"

Pearl's eyes widen before she slaps her hand against her forehead. It's a perfect juncture of her palm and her face. You might even call it... A facepalm.

Eight is _clever._

"Never mind," she growls. "Anyways, you guys... Have fun. I have to make sure this shit doesn't burn."

"Wait, Pearl!" Halfway through the doorway, Pearl turns around. "Um... Where are the party cones?"

"Uhh..." Pearl's voice trails off as she looks around the room. "In the yellow bag behind the gifts. That all?"

"Yeah," Eight says with a nod. "Thank you."

Pearl nods as she leaves the room. Eight walks over to the bag and retrieves three party cones. Because they're not hats no matter what Four says. _Marina_ refers to them as party cones after all, and Marina is smart when it comes to words and stuff.

Eight puts on her party cone and Three snickers a little. Eight hands one to Four, who puts it on, and then she holds one out to Three.

"No," Three says flatly. "I am not wearing a party hat."

"Oh," Eight replies sweetly. "You don't have a choice."

Eight advances when Three backs up, but Three backs up into the wall and immediately admits defeat. A good choice on her part, really! Eight puts the party cone on in one swift motion. Her hands cup Three's face and tilt it up to look straight at Eight.

"What are you do-" Eight cuts her off with a kiss. In the corner of Eight's vision, she thinks she spies Four jump a little.

No matter! Four is not important right now.

Buut, Eight does, in fact, find herself in the tiniest bit of a pickle. On one hand, Eight doesn't want to stop kissing Three, like, even more than usual. It has something to do with disrespecting authority, or, in this case, the lone inkling Nurser known as Pearl. Because that's what she's being right now. A big ole stupid _Nurser._

On the other hand, this is probably at least a little awkward for Four. Like, if Eight was in Four's position right now, and Four was in _Eight's_ position right now and Three and Four were actually dating and not just tricking everyone, and Four pressed Three against a wall and just started kissing her, Eight would probably feel a little bit like wanting death.

So. Hm. Maybe Four actually _is_ important now.

But while Eight is contemplating the morality of kissing her girlfriend, Three ultimately makes the final decision because she just shoves Eight away.

"Pearl," is her reasoning. Eight sighs and nods. "Sorry."

"Your cone is off-center," Eight informs her while pointing at it.

Three just shrugs. Like a _butt._ Like a stupid butt that doesn't _care _about _properly wearing her cone._

"So, um..." Eight takes a few steps back. "Who else is coming, exactly?"

Three thinks for a bit. "I think the old man?"

"Pearl said _others,_ though... Who else?" Three shrugs. Helpful.

"She probably misspoke?" Four offers.

Eight is beginning to suspect that Pearl did not, in fact, misspeak, and all of them are collectively hiding the identities of the extra mysterious extra party guests from her.

Fine! Lie to Eight. Lie straight to her face! She doesn't care, not at all!

Not. A. Smidge.

"You guys know who they are," Eight says with a pout. "Tell meeeee."

"I don't know anything," Four lies. "Nothing at all."

"Pleaaaase?" Eight bats her eyes. Four seems thoroughly unconvinced. "Do you take payments?"

"How mu-"

"NO," Three interrupts. "She _doesn't."_

Four mouths something at her. Three raises her middle finger. It's apparently rude, but Eight has no real idea what it means.

"Can't you just tell me?" Eight pleads.

"Pearl will kill me if I do," Three replies and then takes a seat on the ground. She leans back against the wall and her party cone gets pushed forward. "So I can't."

"She won't kill Four, right?"

Four shakes her head. "Chompy McFuckface might, though."

"I will," Chompy McFuckface agrees. "And I'll put an untoasted bagel on her grave."

"You wouldn't _dare!"_ Four places a hand on her chest and looks at Three as if Three just brutally murdered her children in a way that especially doesn't honour the gods. It's kind of funny, actually.

"Oh, but I _would."_ Three smirks tauntingly at her.

"You _bitch."_ Four opens her mouth to hurl more insults at her but Eight has one, teeny-tiny little question that needs to be answered...

"Guys? What's a bagel?"

Three and Four look at her as if she just told them the saddest story ever but the story was also offensive. Eight has never felt so judged and pitied at the same time.

"You're shitting me, right?" Three asks.

Four's mantle ripples with dark reds and pale blues. "Eight, what has Off the Hook been teaching you?"

"... Can I just get an answer?" They make it seem like bagels are some... Cultural icon or something. Which... They might be! Eight doesn't know.

"It's like bread, but it's in a ring?" Three offers. "Uh, I think you boil them before you bake them, and..."

"They _fuck,"_ Four says bluntly. "Bagels _fuck."_

"It's a... Sex food?" That just sounds like a health hazard, but if they really are ring-shaped... "What..?"

"She's trying to say she likes them. Though... I mean, I guess you could fuck a bagel if you really wanted to? I wouldn't put it past her," Three explains with a small shrug. Hm. Eight doesn't like that mental image.

Four does the _'I am a Victorian woman and you just showed your ankle in front of my kids'_ pose with an offended noise to boot. "I would _never_ fuck a bagel, excuse you." She clears her throat and crosses her arms. "They're a breakfast food that you cut in half _horizontally_ and you _toast_ and put _spreads_ on."

"They kinda suck, honestly," Three mumbles. "I don't understand why you like them so much."

"Because I prepare them correctly? You don't toast them _or_ cut them. You sit there and munch on your raw bagel of sadness like some... Bathtub drain filth." Bathtub drain filth..? Hm, that's new...

"I don't cut them because I'm _lazy,_ Sarah. And _you_ took my _toaster._ You know, the nice one that my _auntie_ got me for my _eighteenth birthday."_ Three huffs. "It was nice, too. You could fit two bagels in it and it had a built-in crumb tray."

"You could just come in and take it," Four says. "You have a key to my apartment, you know."

"But what if you're taking a shit or something? I don't want to open the door yelling 'TOASTER' while you're tucked away having the shit of the century." Three scowls and rolls her eyes. "I have manners, unlike _you."_

"You? You're trying to tell me that _you_ have manners? Hah!" Four scoffs. "As _if."_

Eight shakes her head. All this over... A breakfast food? Maybe it's another surface intricacy she doesn't get, but... No, probably not. It's most likely just the two of them being stupid and dumb as always.

They're _both_ butts.

Stupid... Squid butts, or something. Name pending, so yeah. Take that.

Eight catches Marina walk by the entrance to the dining hall and waves at her. Marina waves back and stops walking when Eight skirts around the two squabbling fools.

"What do you need?" Marina asks.

Eight shrugs. "They're fighting over bagels and I don't know what they are." At that, Eight hears Three yell "Go _FUCK_ yourself, Aunt Susan's lemon bars are fucking AMAZING."

"I... See." Marina sighs. "Well, I was going to go get your gift from the garage."

"The garage..?" Eight gives her a look. "Why is it in the garage?"

"Well, I had to make it there... You know how Pearl gets." Gods, does she ever! Take your shoes off at the door, go to bed at a "reasonable" hour (4:00 AM is _plenty_ reasonable!), don't eat before dinner... She really is just a miniature Nurser at this rate. She'd make... What was her name..? Sa... Sandra..? No, that's not it, it was...

It was something that wasn't that.

Whatever.

Pearl would still put her to shame... Whoever she is.

"Yes," Eight agrees with a sigh. "I do." Suddenly, it hits her. "Wait, you got me something?"

"Of course I did!" Marina rolls her eyes. "Seriously, you think I wouldn't?"

"I guess you would, but... What is it?"

"I'm not telling," she replies flatly. Darn! It was worth a shot... "You'll find out soon anyways."

Eight pouts at her. Marina remains unaffected.

"Okay..." Eight mutters dejectedly. "But can you at least tell me who else is coming?"

"... They didn't tell you?" Eight shakes her head. "Figures... They're-"

The doorbell rings.

Marina turns around and calls, "COMING!" Somewhere else in the house, Pearl also yells it.

Hm... Interesting..!

Eight trails behind her as Marina half-runs, half-walks to the front door. She opens it and smiles.

"Hey!" Marina greets.

"Ah, ahoy there!" That voice! Those bulging eyes! That... Beard! It's him! "Marina, it's good to see ya! How've you been!"

"Good, good! Come in, here." Marina steps aside to let Mr. Cuttlefish walk in. "Did you get them to come, too?"

"Correctamundo! They're getting something from the car?" Them? Who..? "Agent 8! It's good to see you too."

"Likewise, sir!" He holds out his arms for a hug. Eight doesn't crush him like she would anyone else because she's scared she might kill him.

"Thought I told you to cut it out with all that 'sir' nonsense," he chides. "You've been well, I hope? Surface treating you well?"

"Sorry... And, um, yes, the surface has been really nice so far. It's so colorful. The food's a lot better than the Metro's, too," Eight replies, pulling away.

"Aye, it is." His grip on his Bamboozler is shaky, but he looks healthier than when he was in the Metro. "I heard you and the other agents have been getting along?"

"Yes, we have," Eight says. Marina adds, "Maybe a little too well."

"Oh?" Mr. Cuttlefish laughs. "Well, that's good. I'd rather them be friends than enemies again!" Eight grimaces at his comment but doesn't say anything. "Now, Agent 8... Have you met my grandkids yet?"

"No, I haven't." Eight's heard of his grandkids before, and that they're both agents, but she's never met them. They were always busy whenever Eight stopped by the Cabin, after all. "Why?"

"I brought them with me!" Oh, are they the mysterious extra guests? Interesting... "Hopefully they'll hurry it up a little."

"Sorry we took so long!" Eight recognizes that voice. "Parking's a nightmare."

"I think you're just bad at driving." She recognizes them very well.

"At least I _can_ drive!" Oh my god. "Plus, have you ever tried to park a stick shift?"

"How hard can it _be?"_ **Oh my god.** "It's a car, right? You just do it!"

"There you two are! Be a little more punctual next time, would you?" Mr. Cuttlefish shakes his head. "These are my darling granddaughters, Agents 1 and 2."

"Hi!" one of them says with a wave. "Maybe you just know us as the Squid Sisters..?"

"I think she does..?" She shakes her head. "Anyways, I'm Marie, and that's Callie. You're Agent 8, right? We've heard a lot of good things about you."

"Oh my god," says Eight, because _**oh my god.**_ "You're- I..."

"Is she okay?" Callie asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Probably just starstruck," Marie replies, dismissing it with a small wave. "I mean, it's sort of common from octolings..."

"Really?" Callie blinks, pressing her hands to her face. "I haven't noticed at all..!"

"I mean, I was like that at first, too," Marina admits. "You're kind of a big deal, you know?"

"Mmm, I guess, but stiiiiiiill...! We're just inklings, ya know?"

"Inklings that are international celebrities," Marie comments. "It's flattering though."

"You're very humble, Marie," Callie chirps with a smile. "Anyways, are the others here?"

"Mhm," Marina replies with a nod. "They're in the dining hall. Follow me."

Marina leads them back to the dining hall. Four has Three tackled to the ground while Three has a white-knuckled on a fistful of Four's tentacles.

"Just set your stuff on the table over th- Are you guys okay?" Marina asks.

Three shoves Four off her unceremoniously. "Yep. One-hundred percent."

"Were you guys fighting?" Callie asks.

"Looked more like another f-word kinda deal," Marie observes with a wry smirk. "If you catch my drift..."

"That's nasty, Marie," Four mutters, shaking her head. "I wouldn't dare."

"Ahoy there, agents!" Mr. Cuttlefish greets. "It's been a while."

"Um, hi, Captain! Yeah, it... Has." Three pushes herself up and dusts herself off. She doesn't help Four up, but Four grabs onto her hand and pulls herself up nonetheless. "You've been good?"

"Of course!" He shakily walks over and shakes Three's hand. "You look a lot better than before, too."

Three grimaces slightly. "Yeah. I feel better as well."

"Good, good..." Eight rapidly tunes out their chatter. She's still more preoccupied with the Entire Squid Sisters. In the FLESH. In the ROOM. In the... AAAAAAAAAA.

"So, you're Agent 8? Or do you just go by Eight, or do you have a name-name?" Callie asks, getting dangerously close and taking Eight's hands in hers. "Unless Eight _is_ your name-name, but whatever, and-"

"Callie, I think you're freaking her out."

Callie's eyes widen as she takes a step back, letting go of Eight's hands. "Sorry, sorry..! I'm just excited to meet you, that's all."

"Um. Yep, yeah. Me too," Eight stammers. A Squid Sister _touched_ her. She _held_ Eight's hand, like, in _her_ hand. Eight is _never washing her hands again._ "Eight, is, uh, my middle name, but it's what I go by."

"Is it..?" Callie blinks. Eight thinks her eyes are pretty. Like, not Three-levels, but Eight hasn't really seen eyes like Callie's before. The mask around them is more angular, with a smaller, second point on the bottom. Her scleras have a slightly green hue to them, too, one that Eight hasn't seen in photos of promo art for the two. In pictures, they look more like Marie's with the mask shape and eye color. In person, though... "What's your first name?"

"I don't go by it," Eight mumbles. "I'd prefer not to share."

"Ohh. Okay. Sorry, then!" Callie gives her a smile and Eight thinks she's blind now, would you look at that?, Eight won't look, 'cause she can't, nope, and she has no regrets either. "Sooo..."

"Are you and Three finally a thing?" Marie asks. "I never actually got any confirmation..."

"Um... Yes, we're dating."

Marie raises an eyebrow. "Really? How long?"

"A little under a month," she tells her.

"And she didn't even bother to tell me..?" Marie grumbles, shaking her head. "That's good, though, but... Who asked who out?"

"I did." Marie nods as if she was expecting that kind of answer. "Why?"

"Just curious." Eight's starting to get sick of people saying stuff like 'just curious' or 'just wondering' when there's probably more to it every time! "So... You like the surface?"

Eight nods wholeheartedly. "It's amazing. There's so much here, and it's so colorful, too. I don't ever want to go back."

"I'm glad you like it," Marie says with a smile. "You saved us all, you know. We're forever thankful."

Eight now understands Three's reaction of turning into a squid and not moving.

"It's, um... It's nothing," Eight replies instead of shifting into octopus form and never leaving it. "I'm sure anyone would have done it if they were me, anyways."

"See, Marie? She's actually humble! You could learn a few things, ya know?" Callie teases with a grin.

Marie shakes her head. "I'm _plenty_ humble."

"You literally have a wall of trophies in plain view in your apartment."

She could just be proud of them! Marie earned them, after all...

"I'm _proud_ of them, Callie. I earned them myself." Is Marie a mind-reader? That would be cool, but also kind of terrifying, but still cool! If Eight was to trust anyone with psychic abilities, it would probably be a Squid Sister. "Besides, you have a bunch of Squid Sisters posters in yours."

"That's our brand, silly! I'm promoting us."

"... You're promoting our brand in your apartment?" Callie nods. "How many people do you bring to your apartment, exactly..?"

"That's private, Marie! You don't need to know." Marie narrows her gaze. "I'm not telling~!"

"So you're telling me you're either a massive incel or a total slut?" she asks dryly.

"Neither! I'm neither..!" Callie waves her hands in front of her in the universal 'Never mind!' gesture. "And you know, you're one to talk... Our emails are synced, so I keep getting messages talking about your online purchases, and I'm sick of them! I don't need to know about _that."_

Marie's face turns a dark lime. "Y... You're shitting me, right?"

"Bruce," Callie whispers with an overly-sharp grin.

Marie turns around and leaves the room.

"What was... That about?" Eight asks, cocking her head to the side.

Callie laughs a little to herself. "Nothing, nothing... So, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No!" Eight says too hastily. "No, I don't. Go ahead."

"Do you remember what region you were from?" Oh, no. Eight already doesn't like this question. "I mean, I heard your class used to be in Octo Ravine and Octo Valley."

"... Ravine to Valley. I was a transfer."

Callie nods slowly. "Mm, okay. You remember your squadron? I've just never seen one of you in the face, it's amazing! All the Exterminations happened before I got there, which was super disappointing..."

The... Exterminations..?

"Exterminations?" Eight repeats. "I don't... Remember those."

"... Ah. Maybe that's for the best, then." Eight doesn't like the name, either. She'd have to agree. "Well, still! Do you actually have rings, or is that just talking about jewelry?"

Eight flashes her rings blue for a second or two before letting them dim down again.

"Oh, that's really cool..!" she gushes.

"Um, if you... Don't mind me asking, how do you know all of this, exactly?" Eight asks. "I didn't think octolings were common knowledge here..."

"Around the time Three left for Kamabo, I got squidnapped to Octo Canyon." ... Oh. "It wasn't all bad, minus the brainwashing," she says with a shrug.

"Are, um... Is that why your eyes are like that?"

"... No," she replies. Her voice isn't happy any longer. It seems void of everything, flat and dull. "It's not."

"... Oh. Um, sorry, then."

Callie doesn't respond.

Eight shifts where she stands. Fuck. She totally fucked up, didn't she? God. Dammit.

"I'm, um... Gonna go check on Pearl, if that's okay?"

Callie nods. "Sure," she responds, though her voice isn't as empty as before, but it isn't anywhere close to how it seemed to normally be. "Have fun."

She won't!

Eight leaves and walks into the kitchen. Pearl and Marie are talking about... Something. More importantly... Food! It's not often that Pearl actually gets into cooking, although she normally cooks each night. There's a difference between doing something and, like, _really_ doing something, though. Don't think about it too much.

"Hi," she greets awkwardly and waves.

Pearl waves back. "Howdy, kid."

"Kid..?" Marie repeats quietly. At a normal volume, she greets Eight again.

"What are you guys making?" she asks, walking over. Whatever it is, it smells good.

"It's, uh... Stuff. We were just about to bring it out," Pearl explains. Stuff. How wonderful. "Do you mind grabbing a plate? There's just one there."

Eight nods and takes it, following them out back into the dining hall.

"Oh shit," Three says because she's articulate.

"Indeed," Four agrees because she's something, adjectives are hard and Eight is running out of them. "Wait, is this what you were trying to help them with?"

"Maybe."

"Oooh, Pearl, did you make those?" Callie asks, hands pressed to her face. She... Sounds normal again. Is it fake..? "They look great!"

"I helped," is all Marie says when she sets down the plates.

"She can spit rhymes _and _cook? Why, what can't she do!" Mr. Cuttlefish exclaims. Well, Pearl can't ride a bike, nor can she properly do the laundry, but no one needs to know that...

"Hey, so, Eight," Pearl starts, looking over her shoulder at her. "You wanna open gifts after you eat, or..?"

"I'd like to eat first."

Pearl nods. "Hurry up, then. I... Have to go find Marina."

"Check the garage!" Eight calls after her as she leaves the room.

Pearl only gives her a thumbs-up in a response.

... Dork.

* * *

Pearl and Marina rejoin the group halfway through eating. Marina smells vaguely like sweat, burning, and metal, which isn't always a good combination. And, because that's what Three smelled like the other day after the microwave was set aflame, Eight can only worry.

But Pearl doesn't seem worried! And Marina doesn't seem worried, either. And... That probably means Eight shouldn't be worried, but the sight of the slightly-charred gift on the corner of the cleared-off table does make her a little nervous.

But still, it's relatively uneventful. It's, dare Eight say... _Nice._ Ewugh. Look at Eight, admitting she likes spending time with her _friends._ Gross!

Pearl forced Four to sit between Three and Eight, though. Which was dumb. Other than that, it was nice.

"Oh, Three," Pearl says, pointing her fork at Three as she talks. "I remembered my question."

"... Which is?"

"Eh, it's not for you but it's about you, I guess. Eight!" Eight looks up. "Do you think tongue piercings are for sucking dick?"

What?

A series of green ripples pass through Three's mantle. "Oh my god," she says flatly. "You did not."

"... I don't know what that is," Eight says. Or... No, she knows what the words mean, just... Not so much in that order. "Can you explain?"

Four quietly explains it to Eight in a semi-hushed voice. Eight accepts the knowledge into her life and now knows she will never be able to look at most people in this room the same way ever again.

"I don't see how a piercing can specifically be for anything like that? I mean... I guess it has its uses, but... Why do you ask?"

"Three said they were." Pearl crosses her arms. "And she's _wrong."_

"... You know Three _has_ a tongue piercing, right?"

Pearl's eyes go wide. "No shit. You're kidding, right?"

"Pearl, I think I would know best out of everyone in this room." Eight casts a glance over at Three, whose mantle is constantly flaring with green as she holds her head in her hands. "Three..? Are you o-"

"Fucking peachy," she responds in a tone filled with anguish, hatred, and mortification, otherwise known as the exact opposite of being 'fucking peachy.' "Thanks for asking."

"... Aren't you a lesbian, Three?" Callie asks. "Why..?"

"It- It's not, like, _exclusively_ for cock, but..." Three groans into her hands. "Forget it. I hate all of you."

"You know, this all hinges on the idea that Three actually gets any," Marie says. "Which I _highly_ doubt."

Three goes quiet.

"Can we please," she starts, almost begging, "Move onto something else?"

"So that's a no," Marie replies with a snicker. "Didn't expect much else."

"I can change that?" Eight offers. Silence settles over the table save for the wet slap of Three turning into a squid.

"Oi, you're gonna get ink everywhere!" Pearl snaps. Three does not budge. "Fucking hell..."

"You say that like you haven't before," Marina says. "Once I hugged you and you shifted-"

"YES, MARINA, THANKS-"

"- and landed right on my feet. You know, I didn't think you were-"

"THAT'S WONDERFUL, REENA, CAN WE PLEASE-"

"- that heavy, but I ended up in a cast anyways..." She sighs, smiling fondly. "My precious Pearlie liked cake a little too much~!"

Pearl suddenly disappears beneath the table with another wet slap.

"Um," Mr. Cuttlefish says, reminding everyone of his presence. "What in the squit just happened?"

"Don't ask," Four, Eight, Callie, Marie, and Marina all say in haunting unison.

He didn't.

* * *

About ten minutes later, everyone had pretty much finished eating. Four and Marie were helping with dishes, much to Eight's chagrin because _she_ wanted to help, dangit! Callie and Marina were talking enthusiastically about something. Pearl quickly found herself by Mr. Cuttlefish's side as they caught up on things.

And that left Eight to deal with Three.

Wahoo.

It's kind of cute how Three just... For lack of a better term, _breaks_ when Eight suggests anything vaguely, well... Suggestive. Still, isn't this a little excessive? Ten minutes was... A while. And to imagine what Three's reaction would have been if Eight was serious! She dreads that day...

"Hi, Three," Eight mumbles as she sits down beneath the table. The table is too short - or Eight is too tall - to really fit Eight, so her head presses against the bottom of the table as she cranes her neck to sort of fit. "Are you doing alright..?"

Three doesn't respond. Talking is hard when you are a squid.

Eight gently pokes at her leftmost tentacle. Five pokes, and Three curls the limb in towards herself. Eight pokes the other limb, and Three does the same thing.

Quietly, Eight laughs. "You're cute, you know."

Three's entire body lights up pink. Ah... Maybe she said she wrong thing.

"... Can I get you to shift back?" Green! "Is that a no?" Three's body flashes white once. "Is one flash yes?" Same response. "Is two no, then..?" Same response again. "Great. Why won't you shift back?"

Three's body remains neutral for a moment before flashing green.

"Three, I hope you know I don't speak colors."

A horrible gurgling sound leaves Three's mouth. All speech sounds like that when you speak in your cephalopod form. It's a little unfortunate.

"I don't speak broken toilet, either." Three's body flares white before she shifts back.

"... Go fuck yourself," she mumbles, blushing.

"Yeah, I might have to, at this rate..." Three swats at her arm. "It's the truth!"

"... What about the parent's blessing shit? We're not even a month in, you know..?"

"Rules exist to be broken!" Eight chirps. Three rolls her eyes. "Now, come on. People are waiting."

"Fine," she grumbles, crawling out from under the table after Eight.

"Oh, hey, you got her out!" Pearl says. Eight nods. "You know, I don't even think you _need_ the first part of rule two anymore..."

"Yeah, honestly..." Eight agrees.

"I'll go back under there," Three threatens. "Don't fucking test me."

"Were you always so rude, young lady?" Mr. Cuttlefish asks. "You're normally so well-mannered..."

Eight can just _tell_ Three's trying to shift again, so she grasps her wrist firmly. The skin pulls when she tries, Three's body getting jerked towards Eight, and she rapidly gives up. Eight lets go when Three tells her to go fuck herself again.

"With how often you say that, I'm starting to think you'd _like_ me to," Eight mumbles. "Is that something you'd watch?"

"Eight," Three warns, face a dark orange. "Please."

Eight only laughs.

She stands up, holding out a hand to help Three up. Three takes it, quietly swearing beneath her breath.

"The others are where?" Three asks.

"Four and Marie are helping with dishes," Eight explains. "After that, we'll... I don't know."

"Gifts, obviously!" Marina chimes in.

"I hope you like mine..!" Callie coos beneath her breath.

"I'm sure I will..!"

At least... She hopes she does.

* * *

Not long after, Marie and Four finished washing the dishes. For some reason, Marie seemed to be blushing a little... Which really begs the question, what did they _do_ to those poor plates? Eight can't ask. Eight can't know. Much the arcane knowledge of sucking dick, it is probably something Eight wishes she didn't know.

... But really, maybe Eight should go in there and inspect the plates...

"So, um... How do I do this, exactly?" Eight asks. "Is there, like, an order, or something..?"

Pearl shrugs. Thank you, Pearl. "Not really, but Marina said she wanted you to opens her last."

"... Okay." Given that some of the wrapping is burnt, that's probably a good choice. "Does anyone want theirs to be opened first, or..?"

Eight receives a whole lot of silence. Chilled legumes, Eight always wanted to die anyways.

"Mine, I guess," Three finally says. "I mean, only if you want, but..."

Pearl, who's standing right next to the cleared-off table, looks over the gifts. "Which one is it?"

"Poorly wrapped," Three tells her. Pearl finds it immediately.

Pearl hands it to Eight. Eight puts it on the table to open it. It tips a little but doesn't completely topple. Eight still wonders how Three managed to make a cube rounded.

"Do I just... Go for it?" Pearl nods. "... Okay."

Eight peels the tacky bow off the gift and can't find anywhere to stick it, so she just sets it on the table. Four snatches it and loudly slaps it against Three's face. That... Had to hurt.

"Are you..?"

"Just open it," Three tells her. The bow falls off her cheek, revealing an orange patch where Four slapped her. Yeesh...

Eight peels the paper off delicately, but finds that to be difficult because the wrapping is done is poorly. Eventually, she gets it off, and...

"It's a box," she states.

"Open the box," Three demands.

"Do you need a knife?" Pearl asks.

"Please do not give Eight a knife," Marina pleads.

"She has claws, right..?" Callie wonders.

"They might break," Marie replies.

"Octarian claws are squiddin' tough!" Mr. Cuttlefish cries. "Open the box!"

Eight slices the tape open and then opens the box.

"Oh?"

"Oh," Three repeats, furrowing her brow. "What does 'oh' mean?"

"It's a _friend!"_ she breathes, gently picking up the contents of the box.

It's a somewhat small dinosaur plush, with soft red fabric. It has two little black beads for eyes and Eight can feel some small pellet-y thingies in its stomach.

"I, uh... Got it for you since I remembered you're, like, some sort of fucking dinosaur nerd, which is a really dumb thing to be a nerd about but, you know, I thought that, uh, you'd, y'know, like it, at least..?" Three stammers, blushing. Her eyes search Eight's face for some sort of confirmation.

"I love him," Eight states. "He is a wonderful friend."

Three lets out a laugh that is _absolutely_ a giggle, no matter what anyone says. "I'm... Happy you like it."

"Thank you, Three! He's perfect!" Eight gently nudges the plush aside so its not in the way but still able to watch. Now all Eight needs is a name...

Pearl grabs the next box - the large one, Four's. When Eight takes it, it's lighter than she thought it would be. Hm... Interesting.

The wrapping paper is a lot easier to remove than Three's, but that probably has more to do with the fact that Four wrapped it correctly than anything else.

"Why are you removing it so nicely?" Marie asks. "You're just gonna end up throwing it out..."

"Uh, to use it again?" Three replies as if it's obvious.

"Is that why your wrapping looked so bad?" Callie laughs. "It's not even expensive, Three."

"It adds _charm,"_ she snaps.

"Actually, it just makes you look like a cheapskate, but potato, potato, I guess," Marie says dryly. Three does the middle finger thing again. "Wow. Our finest agent, huh?"

"You know it."

Inside Four's gift is... Yet another box! Except this one is easy to open. Eight just takes the lid off it, and... Oh! It's a jacket, black, with a bone pattern on it, as if Eight had a skeleton.

"You said you didn't have any jackets," Four explains. "And you liked the inkling skeleton a lot, so..."

Eight slips it on. It's comfy, with a soft inner lining, and... _Pockets._ What a wonderous thing..!

"That was really nice of you, Four," she says with a smile. "Thank you!"

"It's... It's nothing," she dismisses, although Eight swears she sees her blush. "It fits, right?"

"It's a little loose, but I like it like that." Four nods, content.

The next gift is the largest one of all, wrapped nicely in pink paper. In somewhat messy - though still legible - handwriting is "From Cap'n Cuttlefish".

Eight opens it as gingerly as the rest. It's in a box, much like how Three's plush was, and Eight opens it the same way. Inside it is...

"Is this a Bamboozler?" Eight asks, gingerly holding up the weapon.

"Not _any_ Bamboozler... But an authentic one from the Great Turf War!" He holds up his own for Eight to compare it to. "That once belonged to an old friend of mine, but I have no use for it. There's no use in holding onto the past these days..."

Eight gently turns the weapon around in her hands. It's hand-fashioned, not like the replicas sold in Ammo Knights, with a few stickers half peeled off around the shaft. Some ink around the tip had seeped in, staining the rim of it with orange. On the handle, etched in crudely, are the initials D.R. next to S.B.S. Eight assumes the S.B.S. stands for Squidbeak Splatoon, which means D.R. had to stand for...

Mr. Cuttlefish's old friend.

"You're really giving me this?" Eight asks. It almost feels sacred, in a way, as if she's simply holding a piece of history. "... Why?"

"I told you, lassie, I've no need for it nowadays. Perhaps you can get some use out of it, if anything?"

"... Thank you," she tells him, although she's still unsure as to where she should put the weapon. "I'll take good care of it."

"Why, I hope so!" He shifts in his seat.

Next up is a small black bag with "From: Marie" written on a tag hanging off the handle. Crammed in beneath it is "+ Callie!"

"Um, Callie?"

"Hm?"

"What's in the pink bag there, then?"

"Open that in private, okay?" she tells her with a smile. It's as sickeningly sweet as the rest, but it makes Eight's blood run cold.

Eight nods and pulls a few clumps of tissue paper out from the bag. In it are... A few things.

The first thing is a lanyard with some sort of card hanging off it. It reads 'Squid Sisters', and that's all the context she gets.

"This is..?"

"A backstage pass for our concerts," Marie helpfully explains. "I figured you'd appreciate it."

Eight does.

"That's... That's really cool," she breathes. Eight can see the Squid Sisters perform... She can see them _backstage..._

_**Oh my god...**_

"There's more! There's mooore." Callie's leaned in over the table, propping her head up with her hands. "C'mooon."

"Callie, come on," Marie says.

"What? Like you're not excited too?"

Eight hears Four chuckle at that.

Next is... Ooh, are those CDs? Eight looks them over, and sure enough, they are! Ah, but... Eight already _has_ all of the Squid Sisters CDs-

"They're signed," Marie again explains. "Collector's item."  
_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.**_

_**thats cool**_

And lastly is... A slip of paper with two different series of numbers on them.

"Our phone numbers!" Callie cheers. "Since you seem cool and we want to get to know you more."

Eight thinks she has ascended today. Or died, or reached enlightenment, or something cool along those lines. Maybe she's living a dream. Maybe that's why Eight **now has the Squid Sisters' phone numbers **_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.**_

"I- Wow," Eight says because she is articulate and smart. "You... Thank you. Thank you both, a lot."

"It's nothing," Marie replies. "Just consider it thanks. For... Saving the world, and, uh... Making sure Gramps didn't die."

_(aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)_

Pearl staggers over with a large box and sets it down on the table with a grunt.

"That one's mine, kid," she says with a grin.

... Given by the over-the-top pink wrapping paper absolutely covered with ribbon, Eight could have guessed.

Eight tears off the paper because she already knows there's no way to open it nicely. Inside of it are... Books?

"Cookbooks, since you've been interested in cooking lately... Oh, and, uh, I got you some new headphones, since you said your old ones broke?" Pearl... Actually remembered..!

Eight pulls her into a hug. Pearl grunts a little because Eight probably hugged too hard but does Eight care? No! Take that, Pearl. Eight's going to kill you.

With _love._

Hahaha!

"Guess that means you like it?" she asks. Eight nods. "Cool. I'm happy you do."

"It's mine now, right?" Marina asks. There are only two gifts left on table - the slightly charred one and the sparkly pink bag from Callie. Eight nods. "I'll get it, then. I don't want Pearl to hurt herself."

She gets up and grabs the box, handing it to Eight.

It's small, but it's pretty heavy, which surprises Eight a bit.

"Open it!" she urges. Eight sets it down on the table first.

Gingerly, she tears through the paper and pulls it off, setting it aside. Beneath all that paper is...

"A box?" It certainly seems like a box. Not even a cardboard box, but a solid metal chunk. Or, no, there's some indents in it in a pattern of sorts, but... It looks like metal. "Marina..?"

Marina rolls her eyes and presses the small silver button atop the cube.

It opens.

Inside it is a small skyline of Inkopolis Harbor. The skyscrapers are made of a dark, shiny metal and they're reflected on the dark blue glass that's supposed to be the water. Mirrors raise up from the sides of the cube that now lay flat, reflecting light between them and creating...

A sunrise.

On top of that, a familiar jingle starts to play. Eight instantly recognizes it as _Into the Light,_ though it sounds like a music box rendition of the song.

Eight loves it.

"Do you like it?" Marina asks.

Eight responds by crushing her in a hug.

"Thank you," she breathes, blinking back tears. "It's perfect."

* * *

The rest of the party goes well. Pearl made cake that wasn't flavoured like some awful condiment (which is all of them, all condiments are bad, change Eight's mind) and it was actually good. They jammed some candles in it and offered to sing, but Eight didn't really understand why they were offering because it was October 5th and Eight's birthday was January 27th, but whatever!

Everyone had left by 8:30, though.

Eight had just thrown on some clothes after showering, hearing Three's voice in her head begging for her to put something on.

But yeah...

Today was nice. Really nice.

Firstly, Eight got to meet TWO ENTIRE SQUID SISTERS. And then Eight got STUFF from **TWO ENTIRE SQUID SISTERS.** _**AAAAAAAAAAAAA**_ and such.

Secondly, Eight got to spend time with her friends! Which is really nice, honestly. It's hard to get them all in one place like that.

And, well, maybe this is just an extension of point two, but Eight has never felt so _loved._ It's... Amazing.

Three's dinosaur plush (Eight's _beautiful son and friend_) sits beside her on her bed. Mr. Cuttlefish's friend's Bamboozler is currently just sitting on her desk, but she plans to put it on the wall like how they do with swords in the movies. Only, it's a lot easier to kill with a Bamboozler than a sword. Bamboozlers are more _pew pew!_ and swords are more _slicey slice..!,_ and it's common knowledge that _pew pew!_ is more efficient in the death department than the _slicey slice..!_

That's also why rollers suck, but whatever! Not important.

Eight looks over at the pink bag sitting on her desk. She's yet to open it... And Callie said to open it in... Private.

Forgive Eight's mind for immediately going to the gutter.

She pushes herself off her bed, walking over and picking up the bag. Should... Should she open it..?

... Might as well, right..?

Eight pulls out a wad of tissue paper. What's the point of stuffing it with paper, anyways..? The surface is dumb and confusing and-

There's something shiny there..?

Gingerly, Eight pulls the object out.

It looks like... A toothpick, though it's heavy. It's metallic, catching the light nicely - wait, is this solid gold? No, not solid, but... Plated, right?

Sheesh... Where did Callie even get this..?

At the bottom of the bag is a scrap of pale pink paper covered in black writing. Next to it is... A flashdrive. What..?

Eight pulls the paper out.

Oh, wait, this is- This is _Octarian,_ what..? Callie knows Octarian? That's... Odd. It's written fluidly too, as if it was her native tongue. It doesn't use the older, outdated letters that Pearl uses when she writes, as if she was learned the language as it was now and not how it was one-hundred years ago...

Eight reads the first line and feels a chill race down her back.

_Dear Lucille -_

_Congratulations on finally making it to the surface! I'm sure the journey here was quite difficult. I've only heard about everything secondhand, but it seems you had to be quite brave to make it here! Thank you, really._

_There's a lot about you that's odd, y'know? You're Class BR, from the Valley, no less - so you should definitely, definitely be dead! The Exterminations weren't kind, after all. Octarian society isn't very kind, but I'm sure you knew that. You of all people would know, after all..._

_This toothpick here was often worn by high-ranking officials. I managed to snag one, though it was pretty filthy when I first got it. I cleaned it the best I could, but I think there still might be some blood in the scratches. Sorry._

_I've got connections, I guess - I paid this one guy a ridiculous amount for the files of everyone in your squadron. That's what's on the flashdrive, by-the-by. Everyone that was in your squadron, I guess. Most of them have TERMINATED as their status, sorry to say, but you're one of the exceptions._

_There's this other octoling with a status marked as UNKNOWN. Their name's Hanale. They're a few years older than you, but they were the Captain. The chances are slim, but... Maybe you could find them again. I mean, if you got to Inkopolis... What's stopping them, right?_

_I don't know._

_Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done again. I wouldn't be here if not for you!_

_\- Callie._

Files, she... She has files of her squadron, of people she knew, of- They're dead, aren't they? That's what the Exterminations were? Oh, no, no no no no no, _fuck,_ Eight didn't- Eight didn't _want_ to remember, she didn't need to, she...

Eight grabs the flashdrive and shoves the Bamboozler aside, not caring if it gets damaged.

Eight... She needs to know. Not as Eight, but... But as Lucille. The soldier she isn't any longer.

**BR 06 - TERMINATED**

**C. HANALE - 0526 /./ STATUS: UNKNOWN**

**CYNTHIA - 0429 /./ STATUS: TERMINATED**

**LUCILLE - 0117 /./ STATUS: UNKNOWN**

**OLIVIA - 0417 /./ STATUS: TERMINATED**

**ASHLEY - 0527 /./ STATUS: TERMINATED**

Eight wishes she feels something when she sees these names. She wishes she feels something when she reads their dossiers, when she sees their ages.

But she doesn't.

Eight doesn't remember them, she doesn't know who they are, she just...

Eight feels sick.

She hates the Octarians. She hates Callie. Most of all, she hates herself.

A small message appears in the corner of her screen from Three: 'are you free tomorrow we might be able to grab coffee'. Eight slams her laptop shut without responding.

(That night, Eight dreams of her old squadron. She dreams of Hanale teaching her how to use splatlings with a smile. She dreams of Cynthia quietly asking her to bring her weapon polish. She dreams of Olivia chastising her for thinking Octotroopers are cute. And she dreams of little Ashley, toddling behind her chirping_ "Wucy"_ because she liked Eight the most.)

(Eight wants to forget.)

(Eight can't ever forget.)


	14. 3-1 Eight makes a decision

Eight really likes looking at Three. ... Which, objectively, is a weird thing to say! But, then again, you also have to put yourself in Eight's shoes, because Eight has totally swapped spit with Three a few times and also slept in her bed and is dating her. So. Yeah. Maybe a little less weird?

Hm... No. Still kinda feels weird.

Whatever! That's stupid semantics. And logic. And some other word that ends in -ic, like arsenic or something like that.

You can't really _blame_ Eight, can you?

Eight - who is _supposedly_ reading a book - is currently curled up in Three's bedsheets, waiting for her to finally finish doing _whatever_ and also ogling Three across the room like a creep.

Her eyes trail down from Three's mantle, following the line of her back. Her muscles ripple beneath her skin with each movement, hypnotizingly beautiful. The light, however dim, still illuminates the room, casting a golden glow on Three's frame. Eight's eyes trail back up and Three moves just so and the light shines off something that catches Eight's eye.

Her piercings.

Three has a lot of them, really. Maybe too many, but she makes it work.

And Eight? Eight thinks they're pretty. Alluring. Captivating. Simply put, she loves them. She loves running her fingers over them and feeling the metal against the rest of Three's flesh. She loves the way they look and how they catch the light.

Plus, Three has _so many._ You'd think with twenty-two extra holes in your body - well, that was how many Three claimed she had when Eight last asked, but Eight thinks the number is higher than that - you'd look like a pincushion or something, which, well, Three probably does, but like, bad pincushion and not sexy pincushion.

... Okay, sexy might be a bit of an overstatement for Three. No offense, but Eight has the feeling that Three has never attempted to be sexy before in her life. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Three still freaks out when she sees Eight without a shirt on.

There's not even anything to hide! There is nothing sexual about a chest. Eight's tried to explain that to Three before, but Three never listens. Maybe it's a cultural thing, but probably not.

"Hey, Three?" Eight says, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" Her lower gill piercings gleam in the light as she continues rummaging through her dresser.

"How much did your piercings hurt?" she asks.

Three flounders her way into a shirt and turns around. "Uh... Depends on the piercing. Why, you want one?"

Eight shrugs. "I guess so, yeah."

Three pauses, bites her lip, and turns a very dark orange. "Um. Okay. Yeah! Yeah, sure. I. Yes. I, uh. Am not. Objecting to that, uh. At all." She claps her hands together, grinning in a terribly awkward manner. "Yeah. Okay. What, uh. What do you want?"

"Mmmh..." Eight hums as she thinks. An ear piercing could be nice - Eight's heard they weren't too painful, and she's had them before, even though they (and a chunk of her flesh) were torn out sometime before she escaped. Still, she doesn't remember getting them. Thanks, amnesia! And, well, she thinks getting a similar piercing (or, piercings) on her other ear would look kind of weird. Maybe it's got some kind of cultural relevance? Heck if Eight knows! "What do you think I should get?"

"Weeeell..." Three looks Eight over and furrows her brow. "Are there any you don't want?"

Eight runs a finger over her ear. "I had piercings here at some point, but they're kind of, um... Gone." Three makes a face. "So I think it'd look dumb if I got them on the other side."

Slowly, Three nods. "Yeah, that. That, uh. Would probably look a little stupid." Clearing her throat, she asks, "Anything else..?"

"I don't want the exact same piercings as you." Three cocks an eyebrow. "Like, obviously I can't not get the same body part pierced as you since the only thing you probably haven't pierced is your genitals and I don't want a needle there." Three's tentacles ripple a dark green, but her face remains neutral. Sadly, Eight is not fluent in color. "But I mean, I don't want the same, um... Type? Like, I don't want to match with you exactly, if that makes any sense."

Three sucks in an inward breath. "That, uh... That's gonna be hard."

"How many piercings do you have, exactly..?"

Three pauses and counts. "Twenty-four."

"... Since when?"

"A day or so after the party," she replies, sliding the dresser drawer shut. Walking over to the bed, she continues, "It's just a spider bite. You did notice, right..?"

Three takes a seat and Eight takes a good long stare at her face. After a few seconds of Eight not saying anything, Three sighs.

"You really didn't notice?" She taps a little bit below two rings beside each other on her bottom lip. "I wanted to get a tongue web piercing too, but I figured that'd be too much to deal with at once."

"I thought you always had those," Eight mumbles. They're pretty, at least, although Eight's a little biased. "Have they healed yet?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. I'd say, uh... Two more weeks and I should be good."

"Is that why you've been hesitant to kiss me?" Three nods. Eight sighs. "I wish you just told me."

"... Alright, sorry. I'll tell you next time." She lies down next to Eight, who wraps an arm around her. "But, uh... Yeah. I can hook you up with my piercer sometime once you decide what you want. He's a good guy, so I wouldn't worry."

"Thank you, Three," she says quietly. She rolls over to turn off the lamp, leaving the two in darkness. "I'll tell you whenever I think of anything, okay?"

"Sure." A few seconds pass. "... Hey, Eight?"

"Mh?"

"... Can you share some of the blankets, please? You're hogging all of them."

"Just this once."

"Gee, thanks," she scoffs. Eight can picture her rolling her eyes. She pulls some of the blankets over onto Three, who shifts a little as she gets comfy.

"You're welcome, you butt."

* * *

When Pearl opens the door, Eight is staring at her bedroom wall like some weird philosophy guy.

"What," she starts, "Are you doing?"

Eight realizes that she probably looks kind of weird right now. It could be the fact that she's staring at her wall. Or it could be the fact that the wall is covered with pictures of women's faces that are pinned there with thumbtacks. It could even be the fact that some of the pictures have big red X's drawn through them.

... That, or it's the 'Dinosaurs of Inkopolis' shirt.

It's probably the shirt.

"I don't know what kind of piercing I want," Eight explains. Gingerly, Pearl steps inside, gently shutting the door behind her. "I ruled out the ones I don't want, though."

"Why do you suddenly want a piercing?" Pearl asks. Eight stands up and crosses out two more. "I mean, I don't really have a problem with it, I just..."

"It's Three." Pearl narrows her gaze. "Relax. I just think she's nice to look at and I kind of just... Want one."

Pearl keeps her eyes trained on Eight for a few seconds then sighs. "... Okay. Uh, if you get one, I have some extra cleaning stuff I don't use anymore."

Absently, Eight nods. As Pearl turns around to leave, Eight asks, "Can you help me?"

She pauses and slowly turns to face her. "With, uh... With what?"

Eight sighs, slumping forward. "I don't know which one I want, still."

Pearl presses her hand to her face in thought, scanning the wall of pierced female faces. "Weeell... Which ones have you ruled out?"

"Ears," she states. "I don't want another upper ear piercing since I think it'd look weird, and I don't want my earlobes pierced because no one can see them."

"Okay..." Pearl shifts where she stands, staring intently at the woman wall before looking back at Eight. "You don't want your gills pierced, do you?"

"No, no!" Eight shudders at the thought. They'd have to hurt a lot, right? Sure, the different sounds would be helpful for determining which member is emitting which frequency, but there's at least a six month healing period for them and Eight very much _doesn't_ want a bunch of needles there. "That'd be too painful, I think."

Relieved, Pearl sighs. "Oh, thank God. I don't know what I'd do if you wanted those."

"... You'd say no?" Eight offers. Pearl looks at her like she's stupid. "What..? That's what you'd _do."_

She shakes her head, briefly massaging her temples. "I... Whatever. Look, point is, you're not getting those. Every single person who has them are into, like, gillplay and all that weird kinky shit."

"Gillplay..?" Eight repeats, cocking her head to the side. She can easily piece the meaning together by the horrified expression Pearl gives her, blush and all. "What's that?"

"I- Uh, it's..." She clears her throat and shakes her head. "You know what, never mind."

"I'll just ask Three, then," she states, Pearl's mantle going bright green. "Hers are pierced, you know. I think they're pretty."

Pearl, who looks as if she's experiencing every emotion on the 'I want to die' scale, clears her throat loudly. "OKAY. Okay. I don't need to know about that. Like, at all. Please never talk to me about Three's gill piercings again."

"... Well, you were the one that brought it up." Even though Eight knows what gillplay is, she's still going to ask Three about it, just to see her make dying dishwasher noises and maybe turn into a squid. What a butt..! "Anyways, I don't want mine pierced."

"A... Alright." As Pearl's mantle fades back to its normal hue, she walks up to the board and taps a picture twice. "What do you, uh... Think about this one?"

Eight gives it a contemplative look. It's different than a normal look because it has question-y feelings behind it. She feels like some guy staring at modern art or something like that. Something that would piss Three off, because it would. Most things do, now that she thinks about it, but it's still kinda cute. Eight is hopelessly in gay, whatever gay means. She kind of gets it, but... Not really. Maybe she should start with understanding the gender binary.

"I could get it," she responds. Would it hurt a lot..? Not that pain is really much of an issue, either, because Eight is still kind of getting shot at for a living. The turfing industry sounds a lot more barbaric when she puts it like that, doesn't it? Still, Eight doesn't want her aesthetic stabbing to be more painful than it needs to be. Aesthetic acupuncture..? "Do you know how long it would take to heal?"

"I'm not really sure... Definitely more than a month, though." Hm. That could pose a problem. At the same time, maybe not too big of a problem? It's not like Eight's constantly rubbing her face against people all the time. She'd just have to take care of it... "I think it'd look nice on you, though."

"You do..?" Pearl nods. "... Maybe I'll get it, then."

"Do you know anything about Three's piercer?" she asks.

Eight pauses and shrugs. "I know that he's stabbed her at least twenty times."

Pearl snorts. "Okay, but do you know his name or... Anything about him?"

"Just that Three trusts him." Ripples of dark red spread throughout Pearl's mantle. "I don't know what that means, but I wouldn't stress too much over it."

"What if he's some back-alley crackhead?" she mutters beneath her breath. "Look, if you tell me who he is and everything, I'll let you go through with this."

What a Nurser.

"Okay," Eight mumbles with a sigh, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll get back to you, then."

Pearl nods and then turns to leave, hovering in the doorway for a few seconds.

"Okay," she finally says. "You don't mind helping me with dinner later, do you?"

Eight shakes her head no, texting Three.

**You, 4:57 PM:** Can you tell me anything about your piercer? Pearl wants to know.

While waiting for a reply, her phone buzzes in her hand. It's a text from Lucas.

**Lucas, 4:57 PM:** I haven't found anything about them where I living

**You, 4:57 PM:** You haven't?

Pearl leaves the room, door shutting behind her with a click.

**You, 4:57 PM:** It's okay. I wasn't expecting much anyways

**Lucas, 4:58 PM:** There are still the rest of Inkopolis though

**Lucas, 4:58 PM:** This is the big city after all

**Lucas, 4:58 PM:** Do not losing hope yet. We are trying our bests

**You, 4:59 PM:** Thanks, Lucas

As she turns her phone off, one last message flashes across the screen.

**Lucas, 4:59 PM:** It is the nothing, Lucille

Oh, how she hates that name.

* * *

**it's been a month since i last updated this, hasn't it? i've been working on a 2.5 (technically work 3 in the series) work that's been uploaded on ao3. it's second person and contains some smut, both of which break the ffn guidelines, so i just haven't done anything here. it's nice to be back, at least!**


	15. 3-2 Three might have drugs in her car

Three drums her fingers against the steering wheel as she waits in the Houzuki's driveway. Or it it the Houzuki-Ida's? Or... Just the Ida's? Lesbians, Three tells ya. Lesbians.

She hears the door open and she looks up, seeing Eight walk out. Internally, Three panics, because she has gay-for-her-girlfriend disease, and she's been informed it's terminal.

"Hi, Three!" Eight calls with a wave. Three returns the wave in a stupid cheesy manner and unlocks the car doors.

As Eight gets in, she tugs at the hem of her shirt.

"Are you nervous?" Three asks.

"Just a little." Her claws clack noisily against the inside door as she drums them against it. "Are we going?"

"Only once you put on your seatbelt," Three states.

Eight rolls her eyes, obliging. "Why do we even have to wear them? If we die, we come back."

Three chews at her tongue for a second and starts to drive. "They get mad if you do, y'know. Wastes power and all that shit."

"What," Eight starts and snorts, "Are you speaking from experience?"

No eyes. Maggots. Flies pour from her mouth, and they reek of cigarette smoke.

"Nah," she replies after a pause. "It's just common knowledge."

"Oh." Eight blinks slowly, like the eyes of a cat. "Okay."

"Were things okay?" Three asks, starting to drive. "With Pearl, I mean. I know she's a mom and a half, so..."

"She agreed. She helped me pick out a piercing. But, um..." She sighs quietly. "Pearl told me to look at his portfolio," Eight states. "I couldn't really find one, though. He's good, right?"

Drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, Three nods. "I'm basically his portfolio at his rate." While he hadn't done all of her piercings, he'd done most of them. When she first came to Inkopolis, all she had was a nose piercing, then Four got her ears pierced. And, well, things escalated from there - roughly seven months later and he had just pierced her gills. Given that they didn't immediately get infected, things ended up being alright. "I don't think my piercings look all that bad, so... Figure that's good enough."

Eight pauses and quickly scans Three over, then nods. "Yeah, I... I guess so." Her hands, balled into fists, clutch at handfuls of her leggings in a white-knuckled grip.

"Hey, Eight... Relax. It's gonna be alright." Three's been in Eight's position a lot. Maybe more than a lot. Normally it's Four trying to calm her down from an oncoming panic attack, but this time that task falls onto Three! ... Hopefully Three won't be as mean as Four usually is about it, though. "You did all the things I told you to, right?"

"... You're asking if I showered and washed my face?" she asks, looking at Three like she's stupid. "I'm not _you._ I do that daily."

"Uh... Yeah. Okay." Three clears her throat. "You're not drunk, right?"

"Yes, Three," Eight deadpans. "I am wasted right now. Tomorrow I'll wake up and puke on my sheets."

"... I think you've been spending too much time with Dana." Eight hums and shrugs and ultimately says nothing.

"Mhm." Eight drums her fingers against the door in a rhythm. "Um... Did you work today?"

"No," she replies, and Eight hums in acknowledgement. "I gotta work tomorrow, though. Why do you ask?"

"... Just making small talk," she mumbles. Eight sighs again. "It's not that bad, is it? Getting a piercing, I mean."

"No, it's not. Just one poke and you're done. Maybe a little swollen afterwards, but it's not too bad." Eight hums quietly. "I'll hold your hand through it, okay? Will that help at all?"

"Yeah," she says, voice soft. "I'd like that, Three." Silence settles over them, and Eight mutters two soft words that almost blend in with everything else: "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Three responds at a similar volume, and the tension swirling in the air fades just a tad.

"... It won't restrict my breathing, will it?" she asks. "Since, you know... Um, my nose, it's-"

"Eight, come on." The octoling sighs a little and Three pictures her blushing. "You can still breathe now, right? A little metal won't hurt."

"It's a needle. I'm sure it's going to hurt."

"I didn't mean it literally," Three states.

_"I didn't mean it literally,"_ Eight mocks. "Is it like getting a shot?"

"I guess, yeah." Three makes a left onto Starfish Street. "They're not bad."

"Getting a shot _sucked._ It was awful." She sighs again. "And you got stabbed twenty-four times? Even your gills? Maybe Pearl was right."

"... What did Pearl say now?" Three asks slowly.

"She said you were into gillplay, and I think she was hinting at you being a masochist." Three chokes on her spit and almost careens into a building. "Was she right?"

"You _told_ her?" she blurts out and immediately craves death. Fuck. That was the wrong response.

"That you were a masochist that was into gillplay? No, she kinda came to that conclusion by herself. I mean, I never really thought about it previously, but I guess it's kinda obvious? Like, you know, you... It's not something I wouldn't think you'd like-"

"Eight."

"- And it's not, like, the weirdest thing I've heard of either? Like, it's, um... It's not venomplay - I mean, not that it's the worst, but you understand, right? Like, it's not going to possibly kill you - Gods, could you imagine the conversation with the people at the city spawns over that? It'd have to be _so_ awkward-"

"Eight, please."

"- But anyways, what I'm trying to say is that I'm really not opposed to trying it if it makes you happy? I don't really get it myself, like, isn't it kinda tickly, or do the piercings make it not tickly, and- Can you still feel the metal in your skin, like if I pulled on them, would you feel that? And, like, does it hurt, or- Have you ever even tried it, or-"

"Eight!" Three snaps, face burning hot. "I'm really trying to not crash the car right now, so, if you would."

Eight goes quiet for a few seconds and Three can feel her eyes trained on her.

"Three, I bet you're into venomplay." Three lets out a horrible screechy noise of mortification. "I bet you're into having necrotic tissue. Am I right?"

"I don't even know what that is," she lies and contemplates crashing the car into a nearby building.

"You're lying," Eight says, calling her bluff. "When you let me use your laptop the other day, I looked at your search history."  
"WHY did you look at my search history?" she snaps. "Eight, that's PRIVATE."

"Not private enough, otherwise you'd look on a secret tab. Anyways, yeah. There was a lot going on there."

If Three shifted into a squid, she would probably crash the car, but she thinks that sounds like a great idea anyways.

Swerving into a parking lot, Three yanks her keys out as fast as possible and scrambles out of the car.

"WOW WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT," she says, "WE'RE HERE! OOOOKAY LET'S GET IN, AREN'T YOU READY TO GET YOUR NOSE STABBED?"

Eight steps out and blinks, staring at Three with wide eyes.

"Are you..?" she starts, and then her voice trails off. She smiles softly and Three feels mortal fear. "Oh, I get it. Were you, like, thinking of me wh-"

"BUILDING," Three replies gracefully. "ENTER BUILDING NOW."

Eight laughs, and it's melodious and sweet. "Okay, Three. If I must."

* * *

"Um. Hey, Alex." Three coughs into her hand as she greets the piercer at the desk. "How, uh. How's it going?"

"Oh, Summer, hey," he mumbles. The urchin pushes his glasses up, not looking up from the desk. "Yeah, things're good, I guess. What brings you here?"

"Piercing," she blurts out, still recovering from the horrible car ride here. "Uh. I mean. There's a, uh-"

"Are you okay? You sound a little frazzled," he comments, still not looking up.

"Um, we're here for an appointment," Eight chimes in.

Alex blinks and looks up, his face barely changing when his eyes land on Eight. "Oh, are you Lucille?"

"N-" Three starts, but Eight cuts her off: "Yes, that's me."

... What?

"Oh, okay," is all Alex says to this entire fucking name. "You're getting a septum piercing, right?"

Eight nods. "Um, yes, I am."

"Mm." Alex hums absentmindedly and looks over at Three. "Are you getting any piercings today?"

"No."

"Are your piercings bothering you or something?"

"Not really, no."

"Then why are you..?"

"Um," Eight chimes in again. "I'd just, um... I'd like to just, have her here? Um... You know."

"Oh," says Alex. "Emotional support?"

"... Yeah." Blushing slightly, she admits, "I'm... Kinda nervous, that's all. I haven't gotten a piercing before."

"Oh, sure," he says with a small nod. "I understand. It's really not that bad. Right, Summer?"

"Uh. Yeah. It's- It's not that bad," she stammers, not expecting a question.

"You're at, mmh... Twenty-four piercings, right?" Alex asks. Three hums in agreement. "And, see, she's scared of needles, so if she can do it, so can you."

"Wait, you're scared of needles?" Three nods, feeling her face warm. "... But you have twenty-four extra holes in your body?"

"... I like how piercings look," she states. Eight goes quiet and hums beneath her breath. "Is that, like, weird..?"

"Well, don't people tend to avoid things they're scared of?" she points out. "Well, it's nice that you're confronting your fears."

"Haha, yeah," Three replies hastily, because Eight is _so_ far off from the truth. "So. Uh. Your piercing."

"Yes," Alex says, clearing his throat. "It won't take long, Lucille."

"... That's good, then," she says, her rings glowing slightly. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"Not if you do it in the right spot," he responds, leading Eight further into the shop. Three hesitates for a moment before following the two. "The cartilage is a little tough in some spots, so you just have to do it right. Luckily, I'm a decent piercer."

"... Ah. That's good, then."

Alex sits Eight down in a chair and slips on a pair of gloves.

"I just have to clean it first," he explains, grabbing an alcohol pad. "It's so you don't end up with an infection immediately, and also so the piercing doesn't get messed up."

He tilts Eight's head up as he talks, starting to clean the inside of her nose. Three's never actually seen a piercing done before, and even when she got her own done, she'd usually come in on a decent amount of alprazolam so as to not have a panic attack when Alex gracefully stabs her in the face.

Thank Tatzelwurm for drugs, right?

While Three was absolutely on board for Eight to get a piercing, she never really considered what it'd look like. Sure, she'd see soon enough, but Three's still impatient. She's never really been a huge fan of septum piercings, although she disagrees with the sentiment that it makes people look like walruses. Yeah, sure, the ring is somewhat similar in appearance to what walrus nose rings look like to help them wean, but... It's just kind of rude. And it's definitely something Sarah's mom would say. And Sarah's mom is lowkey a massive bitch. Like, she wouldn't _tell_ Sarah that, but... Point still stands!

"Okay, take a deep breath," Alex tells Eight. "Take a few."

Eight does just that, and Three's hand quickly finds Eight's as she gives it a comforting squeeze. Eight returns it, and she visibly relaxes. Once Eight is done breathing deeply, Alex basically shoves a clamp up nose - but in a gentle way - and adjust its placement a few times. After that, he takes a needle - oh fuck god no - and pulls Eight's nostrils up - tatzelwurm fuck shit on a stick _no_ \- and lines it up and - _fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu_

Eight exhales slowly as Alex _stabs her fucking face_ and Three's mantle blanches white as she looks away and tries _really, really hard_ not to vomit. She stares at Alex's hands down on the table as they pick up a cork and move out-of-sight and she doesn't even know what that's for! What the fuck is this even? This is HORRIBLE holy shit did getting stabbed really look like that every time? God that AWFUL, that's SO awful, ohhhhhhh god three's going to Fucking Puke if only she didn't leave her drugs in the car

_Something_ happens with the Thing That Shall Not Be Named That Rhymes With Meedle, which does in fact come back bloody - ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew - and then there's some more shiny metal and Three doesn't know what's happening anymore and she doesn't want to know, god fucking shit she wants to go home this is HORRIBLE

"Lemme just bend the metal," Alex says, and he presumably goes ahead and does that. Three's grip on Eight's hand is crushing and Eight's grip on Three's is not so much. "... Yeah. Okay, you're done."

"... That was it?" Eight asks. Three looks up again and _nooooo eight's eyes are watery..._ "That... Really wasn't that bad."

"See? I told you," Alex responds, handing her a handful of tissues. As Eight dabs at her face, he takes a bottle of saline solution and pours some of it into a cup, dipping a cotton swab into it. "Okay, so, here's how you clean it."

As he shows her how, Three studies Eight's face. Minus the fact that she was crying a little - she knows it's a common response to getting your nose stabbed, and her eyes teared up too when she got her nostril pierced, even if it didn't hurt all that much - she looks... Good. Like, maybe way too good. Her nose is _slightly_ swollen, and the piercing does bring attention to her crooked nose, but it's still... Really nice. And she doesn't even look like a walrus.

(Suck on that, Mrs. Cuvier.)

Once Alex is done shoving cotton swabs up Eight's nose, he lets Eight look at herself in a small hand mirror.

"Oh, it looks nice!" she says with a smile. "Um... Three, do you like it?"

"Yeah," Three replies, ignoring the feeling of nausea that consumes her when she remembers the meedle-sounding word. "It looks good."

"Aww, thanks!" Turning her attention back to Alex, Eight thanks him.

"I'm glad you like it, Lucille," he says, returning the smile.

As they go to pay, Three silently repeats the name a few times.

_Lucille._

Eight said she didn't remember her past, and that she didn't want to, either. Had something happened with her? A change of heart, or something? Then, why hadn't she told Three?

After saying their goodbyes to Alex, Three leads Eight out. When they get in Three's car, silence hovers over the two for a few seconds, deafening and suffocating.

"... So," Three finally says. "Lucille."

Eight sighs, heavy and long. "... Yeah. That's... My name."

"... How long have you known?"

"Since I got the surface," she states, chewing at the inside of her lip. "It's... Something Marina found in my file. She, um... It was part of the process for... Citizenship. It doesn't, or- It didn't really... Feel like my name. So I just never told you, because I just went by Eight."

"Didn't?" Three repeats. "You're saying it does now, then?"

"Err- Um. Well." Again, Eight sighs. "Do... You remember the party? The, 'congrats, you didn't die!' one?" Three nods. She remembers it well. "Um, so... Callie's... _Gift_ to me was a... Flashdrive. And it had data on my old squadron on it."

"... Did it, now?" Eight nods slowly after a pause.

"It, um... I don't know how to describe it," she admits. "It's- It made me remember things that I... Always knew, somehow, but they seemed... Insignificant, until I remembered them again. And it- It had meaning, then. It meant so much, and-" Her voice breaks. Three's mantle flares up blue with concern. "And I- I don't even know why I'm crying, it- They didn't- They shouldn't mean anything to me now. I don't remember them, but- But they're..."

"It's okay, Eight," Three says hastily. "It's- It's okay. Take a deep breath."

With teary, unfocused eyes, Eight nods and shakily takes in a breath and exhales slowly. When she meets Three's gaze again, Eight's stare is glassy and empty, and Three desperately wants to hold her until the pain goes away.

"Do you... Want me to talk to Callie about it?" Three asks. Eight shakes her head. "Why not?"

"I don't... Want to start any more conflict," she says after a long pause. "I just... Want to live normally."

"... Okay." Three doesn't press it any more. She... Feels like she shouldn't. "It's... It's okay, Eight. It's... Hard right now, but..."

Absently, Eight nods. Three sighs and starts the car.

"Did, um... Did Alex give you any saline solution?" she asks, trying to change the subject. Tatzelwurm help her, she's going to fucking _destroy_ Callie when she gets the chance.

"Yeah, I... I have a bottle of it." After a pause, Eight quietly adds, "Thank you, Three."

"... Don't worry about it. You know I lo-" She bites her tongue and corrects herself, "Like you, Eight. A lot."

"Mmh," Eight hums softly. "I... Like you a lot, too."


	16. 4-1 Three is now legally old

Eight has changed a lot of things about Three's life.

Before dating Eight, or meeting Eight, or thinking anything more about the number than an angel of flesh and blood, Three was miserable. She thinks that'd be the only way to describe herself, really - grumpy, and snappy, and irritable, but also dull and empty. She was the kind of person who was on a first name basis with all the people working at the city spawns. Some sort of societal failure. Some sort of corpse, alive but not living.

Before dating Eight, Three didn't care. Three didn't care about anything or anyone and most certainly not herself. She had a carpet of bandages and dirty clothes and cracker crumbs on the now clean floor. But Three bought a vacuum because of Eight. Three vacuumed up multiple cockroaches because of Eight. That in and of itself is a horrible experience, but Three did it for Eight nonetheless.

Hell, Three barely even did the laundry before meeting her. And now Three is laying beside her in a clean bed with a clean floor and freshly-washed sheets that smell like lavender and cigarettes and now Eight, too. As the sunlight streams in through the blinds, Three sees the slow rise-and-fall of her girlfriend's chest and she finds herself smiling.

Three thinks she got lucky with Eight. No, Three knows it.

Eight snores quietly. Three hopes whatever she's dreaming of is good. Three hopes she's as happy as she is right now.

As Three watches Eight, she feels a fond fullness in her chest. She ponders for a moment as to what it is, and she isn't as shocked at the conclusion as she should have been.

_Oh, I'm in love._

* * *

Her morning doesn't go much differently after that. There's a routine she's formed, but not consciously. Three made Eight breakfast once, and Eight liked it, so then Three did it again, and again, and now on mornings when Three doesn't wake up with Eight beside her, she still gets up and makes food and then never eats it.

When Eight stumbles into the kitchen, yawning with sleep in her eyes, Three looks up from the pan and can't stop herself from smiling.

"Good morning, angel," she greets.

Eight rubs her eyes and then blinks a few times groggily.

"Hi, Three," she mumbles, her voice grainy with sleep. "What're you making?"

"Eggs," Three responds. Eight walks towards her and wraps her arms around her waist, burying her face in the nape of Three's neck.

"I like eggs," Eight states, the words muffled. "I like you."

"I like you too," she says, and Eight hums softly and mumbles more words into her skin. "I'm off today, if you want to do something."

"Okay." Eight breathes in slowly, leaning onto Three further. "I had a dream we got married."

Three coughs a few times as she chokes on her spit. "I- Did you?"

"Mhm," she replies. "You were wearing a dress, and you were so pretty. I wanted to kiss you, but I woke up before I could."

"Um. You can kiss me now, if you'd like." So Eight does that, and Three briefly wonders if the eggs are burning. Eight still tastes like morning breath, which isn't pleasant, but Eight is pleasant and Three doesn't care about much beyond that.

"Do you think one day you'd want to get married?" Eight asks quietly.

"Maybe one day," Three answers slowly, "But not now."

"Mmh," Eight hums, and just kisses her again.

* * *

When they sit down to eat, the only thing Three can think of is, well... Marriage. It's a fun thing to think about, but she knows realistically she isn't ready for it. She's too young. They're both too young, and they haven't been together long enough, but Three still thinks about it.

She thinks about walking down the aisle to meet Eight and she thinks about the dress she'd wear, and if Eight would wear a dress or a suit and she thinks about the cake and dancing and the cold ring on her finger and two small words: "I do."

It's kind of a sappy thing to think about - and not even a very likely thing to happen. But Three still thinks about it, and she thinks about their honeymoon, and she thinks about waking up every morning like she did today - with Eight sleeping beside her as the sunlight streams in while the birds outside sing.

Three takes a sip of her coffee as Eight eats her eggs. Eight's staring at her right now, and Three wonders if she has something on her face.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

"You're beautiful," Eight breathes, and she sounds so sincere Three thinks she really might believe her. She laughs, then, soft and light, and Three blushes a dark orange.

"Ah... Um, thanks," she mumbles, taking another sip of her drink. "You're, um... Really pretty, too."

Eight smiles kind of dopily. "Can I ask you to call me angel again?"

"I... Um, I could do it, yes," she responds, blinking. "Why?"

"I like it," Eight explains, leaning over the table. She rests her head in her hands and she watches Three attentively. "It makes me feel special."

"You are special," Three says, and after a small pause, she quietly adds, "Angel."

Softly, Eight giggles, and Three feels her hearts swell with... Love.

Yeah. Three loves Eight, and the more she thinks about it the better she feels.

"You said you're off today?" Eight asks with a mouthful of eggs in her mouth. Once she swallows, Eight continues, "Do you want to go out today?"

"I don't know," she replies, taking another slow sip of her drink. "I don't care much either way, really. If you want to do something, we can. What's the date? I can check what's open."

"It's Saturday. November 10th," Eight states.

"Oh," Three says aloud, "It's my birthday."

"It's your birthday?" she asks, then her eyes widen. "Three, why didn't you tell me?"

"I forgot," she responds with a shrug.

"And you never told me before either!" Eight snaps. She sighs, picking at the last few bits of eggs on her plate. "I wish you told me. I could've gotten you something."

"Sorry," Three mumbles, downing the rest of her drink. "You don't have to get me anything anyways."

"But I want to, and- You know, I could have at least gotten you a card or something." She sighs. "Today I wanna go out and do stuff with you because now you're old."

"You're older than me," Three states. "If I'm old, you're ancient."

"Well, I'm nineteen too," Eight huffs. "So we're both old now."

"You're still older than me though." Eight's eyebrow twitches. "It's the truth."

"Then you're just going to have to take care of me, 'cause I'm ancient." Teasingly, she grins at Three, who rolls her eyes in return.

"Okay, grandma. Go get dressed and maybe I'll think about it," Three responds flatly.

"If I'm old, you should help me," Eight states.

Three blinks. "Help you with what."

"Oh, you know," she starts. "Changing my clothes."

Three blinks again a few more times in what can only be described as gay shock.

"Are," Three begins, "Are you trying to flirt with me by being an old lady?"

Eight winks at her.

Sighing, Three very much does not blush or consider the idea of undressing Eight even a little bit.

"It's working," Eight breathes, smirking.

"Shut up. It isn't." Eight gives her the look. "It's not. Stop looking at me."

"So you're saying," Eight starts, "That you wouldn't be interested in seeing me naked at all?"

Three considers that statement really hard and responds by standing up with so much force that her chair topples over. Calmly - calmly - she grabs her mug and Eight's empty plate, and says, "I'm going to go do the dishes now! Right now. You should, um. Go get ready. Yeah."

At Three's perfectly normal series of action that were not accompanied with blushing, Eight laughs. "Okay, you prude. Do you want me to wash the dishes?"

"I, uh... No. I got it. It's cool." Three clears her throat, watching Eight stand up. Eight's close to leaving the room, but she puts her hand on Three's shoulder on the way out and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Happy birthday, angel," she purrs, and Three thinks she understands why Eight liked the nickname now.

"Yeah," Three whispers stupidly, "You too."

Eight laughs and leaves the room, and Three stares at the doorway dumbly.

It only takes Three five minutes to realize what she said, and she can't even bring herself to be mad. Love must just be stupid like that, then.


	17. 4-2 Eight is a hot isopod near you!

Sending a message to **hot isopods near you**.

**You, 11:46 AM:** Okay so guys I'm panicking a little

**Four, 11:46 AM:** What happened?

**Dana, 11:46 AM:** whom tf gonna catch these hands

**Lukas, 11:47 AM:** Why would they needing to catch them? Why are they detachable?

**Dana, 11:47 AM:** baby boy. its an expression

**Lukas, 11:47 AM: **It's a stupid expression.

**Four, 11:49 AM: **She's been typing for a while...

**Dana, 11:49 AM:** shes a novelist leave her alone

**Lukas, 11:49 AM:** Lucille, are you well?

**You, 11:51 AM:** So I woke up today and things were going okay, I spent the night at Three's place and everything, but we were eating breakfast and everything was going well and she's off today and I didn't want to go home yet because Pearl is too much of a butt sometimes to deal with, so I asked her what she wanted to do today and she said she didn't really care, which she always says and that makes planning dates horrifyingly inconvenient. I still wanted to do something with her because it's not like we even do a lot when we're at her place because she's really bad at Monopoly, so I decided that we were going out, and then she asked for the date and I told her the date and she went "Oh, it's my birthday."

**You, 11:51 AM:** She FORGOT when her birthday was. She's so stupid!

**Dana, 11:51 AM:** LMFAO

**Four, 11:51 AM:** Yeah, that sounds like her

**You, 11:53 AM: **So naturally I'm freaking out because I'm supposed to do things with her for her birthday in a special way and then that's not happening because she never told me and then she also forgot when her birthday was, like it isn't some big thing, but it is!

**You, 11:54 AM:** So I don't know what to do and I need help :(

**Four, 11:54 AM:** Well, that's a little... Awkward.

**Dana, 11:54 AM:** lucy just have sex w her

**Four, 11:54 AM:** On-brand, but awkward

**Four, 11:54 AM: **DANA

**You, 11:54 AM: **:/

**Lukas, 11:55 AM: **Yes that would also be my advice

**Lukas, 11:55 AM:** Just fucking her

**You, 11:55 AM:** :/

**Four, 11:55 AM:** Nooo Lukas not you too

**Dana, 11:55 AM: **sbsksjrjs

**Dana, 11:55 AM:** yea have u even boned yet anyways?

**You, 11:56 AM:** I've been TRYING but she's too emotionally repressed to even handle the thought of me shirtless

**Dana, 11:56 AM:** wow what a catch huh

**Dana, 11:56 AM:** send her a tasteful unsolicited dick pic or like pussy pic or whatever u got goin down there

**You, 11:56 AM:** She's... Seen me naked before and she almost died

**Four, 11:56 AM:** Lukas cover your eyes

**Lukas, 11:56 AM:** No I am invested now this is knowledge I need

**Dana, 11:56 AM:** inkling_eating_popcorn_

**You, 11:57 AM:** She turned into a squid and stayed like that for TEN MINUTES

**Dana, 11:57 AM:** SKJEJSJE

**You, 11:57 AM:** And my plan was to just take a bath with her and maybe kiss a little but I had to sit there covering my body with a towel and wait for her to relearn how to function!

**Dana, 11:57 AM: **GODDDD NO FUCKING WAY?

**Four, 11:57 AM: **Yeah, that sounds like her.

**Lukas, 11:57 AM:** Do you think that if she can't see you when you are defiling her she will be okay with it?

**Dana, 11:58 AM:** DEFILING...

**Dana** changed group chat name to **hot defiled isopods near you**.

**You, 11:58 AM:** I mean... Maybe, but I also think she would still freak out.

From Eight's seat on the couch, she catches Three reenter the room in different, nicer clothes, and- Is that a skirt? That's a skirt. That's a light orange skirt, and... Damn, she looks good in it.

"Hey, Eight..." Three clears her throat quietly, at which Eight jolts. "My eyes are up here."

Eight laughs at the jab, feeling her face warm a bit. "I know," she says. "But I can't appreciate the view?"

"I- _What_ view?" Three snaps, blushing as well. "... Eight. Come on."

"You've never showed that much skin, like, ever!" Eight retorts. "Plus, I'm your _girlfriend,_ I should be allowed to look at least a little."

"Yeah, well- Look all you want, I'm not changing out of it," she huffs, crossing her arms.

"Good," is really the only reply Eight can think of. Standing up, she turns off her phone and sets it on the coffee table. "I'll go get dressed, and we can head out?"

"Uh... Yeah. Sure." Three rubs her arm a bit awkwardly as she stands there, and Eight squeezes Three's butt on the way out. Three lets out a cute little squeaking noise, and Eight just cackles.

"Asshole," she hears Three hiss as she shuts the bedroom door behind her, and Eight's convinced she has to be the luckiest woman alive.

* * *

"So, where do you want to go?" Eight asks, pulling on a pair of boots. They're good boots, boots that go up to her knees with a steel toe and they make the nice Clomp Clomp noise, the noise that's better than sex. Eight would ask Three for her opinion on the boots, but Three has probably never worn Clomp Clomp boots or had sex, so she wouldn't have an opinion. "There should be... Stuff open today. And I'll pay for whatever!"

"Ah, um- You don't have to," Three says hastily. "I can pay. It's fine. And, uh... You know, you can do whatever."

"It's your _birthday,_ Three. I have to do something for you, or..." Eight's voice trails off and her lip curls up into a smirk. Slyly, she suggests, "I mean, I could, like, _do_ you."

Three opens her mouth to say something, then realization hits, and she opens and closes her mouth a few times like a fish.

"Uh, YEAH! Orrrr, uh. Fuck. Shit. Um. I'm down for, uh. Whatever. And stuff. Like. Do what you want to, uh, do, I guess, like it's up to you really, um. Yeah. Mh."

Eight laughs and bends in to give her a kiss.

"You're a butt," she mumbles. "A really gay, stupid butt."

"Haha, well, you're, uh. Equally gay. And stupid. And hot. You're hot. I like your face," Three says with a stupid smile. It's one of the dumb smiles she gives when she's gayly overwhelmed, and Eight thinks it's adorable so she kisses her again. Stiltedly, Three laughs into it. "Yeah. Uh, do you wanna make out?"

Eight fakes a gasp. "Wow, really? You're finally taking initiative!" Three gives her a cold glare that's not very menacing because her face is still flushed a very deep orange.

"... C'mon, Eight," Three says quietly. "Don't be an ass."

Eight laughs quietly, leaning in.

"Gods, you're beautiful," she murmurs, voice low.

When Eight kisses her, Three's lips are warm and soft against her own, and she wraps her arms around her, pulling her close. Three slowly relaxes into the kiss, then gasps softly when Eight's tongue moves against the seal of her lips. A hunger stirs in Eight's stomach when her tongue grazes over Three's piercings.

She wants her. She wants Three.

Her hand slides up Three's back and under her shirt as her tongue delves into the heat of her mouth. Three lets out a small noise, and it melts into Eight's tongue. Three's nails curl further into Eight's mantle as Eight sucks and nips at Three's lower lip, and a shuddering moan leaves her when Eight licks into her mouth once more. The hunger in Eight's gut grows into an insatiable burning and Eight kisses her over and over again until Three pulls away, panting.

"Eight," she gasps, her face flushed and her eyes dark. "Eight, let me- Let me catch my breath, please."

Eight thinks she needs to catch her breath as well, or that she should - her lungs are starting to hurt - but she doesn't really think that those sorts of things matter right now. Not when Three's right there. Not when Eight's body is hot and blazing and _ravenous._

"Okay," she breathes back, pressing a kiss to below Three's lip, and then another on her jaw, and one more on her neck, and one more beneath that. Three's skin is molten and flushed and burning, too, and Eight can feel the drumming of her hearts beneath the flesh. When the sharp edge of Eight's beak scrapes against the skin, Three quietly gasps once more.

Feverishly, Eight forces their lips together once more, and Three softly cries out.

Between kisses, Three mutters Eight's name, half moan and half plea.

Something in Eight snaps. She's uncontrollable. Insatiable. Eight wants her. Eight wants to hear her name on Three's lips again and again. She wants to kiss Three till she's delirious and dizzy and she doesn't want to stop. She wants to leave Three breathless and gasping. Beneath Three's shirt, Eight's hand twists and tugs at the piercings adorning her skin, and her breath hitches just so, her voice shaking. "Eight," she gasps once more, and Eight covers her mouth with hers once more and their tongues tangle.

Fuck.

Eight wants to _ruin_ her.

With a low growl, Eight slams her against the wall and Three whines pitifully. There's absolutely nothing stopping her now, and she fumbles with the hem of Three's skirt as-

Three loud knocks come from the door.

Eight really, _really_ wants to ignore them right now, but Three weakly shoves her away. Balancing herself against the wall, Three calls, "Who is it?"

"It's me," comes Four's voice. "Sarah."

{_Vives'helne,_} Eight swears beneath her breath. With dark eyes, she watches Three slowly catch her breath and walk over to the door, opening it.

God, Eight wants her. Eight wants her so fucking badly, and Eight can't have her.

"Happy birthday, Summer!" Four greets with a smile, immune to the veritable assload of sexual tension in the air. She shoves a box into Three's hands, who accepts it clumsily.

"Ah- Um, thanks, Sarah," she mumbles. The ends of her tentacles simmer a dark bruise-like blue, but it stays somewhat stable. Three just takes a seat on the ground as she unwraps it, and her face (and mantle) light up when she realizes what it is. "I- Oh my god, Sarah, you did _not."_

"I did!" Four exclaims, clapping her hands together.

"What... What is it, exactly?" Eight asks, looking over at the box. It's... Well, it's a white box, with text on it, and a picture of a thin... Tablet, of sorts. "A... Drawing tablet?"

"It's to help with art," Three explains quietly. "So you can draw on computers and stuff. My old one broke a month back, though."

"... You can draw?" Three nods. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I mean, it never came up," she settles on. "I'm definitely gonna set this up when we get back."

"When we... Get back?" Eight asks, cocking her head to the side.

"You said you wanted to go out, right?" Three explains, carrying the boxed tablet with both arms. There's a certain playful glint in her eyes that makes Eight feel feverish and wanting. "Four can come with, right? It'll be like our first date, won't it?"

Their... First date?

"... You mean the pizza place?" she says slowly. Three walks over to the door to her bedroom, one hand fully turning the handle.

Pushing the door open, she nods. "Yeah. Like old times, right?"

"Right. Like... Like old times," Eight says in response. The door shuts behind Three and Eight wishes she could follow her in and have her all to herself.

"So, um... What were you guys doing today, anyways?" Four asks. "Like, where were you planning on going?"

"... Downtown, I guess?" Eight shrugs. "I don't really know myself."

"Mh," hums Four. "I guess we'll see, then."

"Yeah," she agrees with a small sigh, her body missing the warmth of Three's own. "Yeah, I guess we will."


	18. 4-3 Eight suggests a hands-on approach

"So, where do you actually want to go?" Four asks.

The three are currently at the Square, in an area further away from Deca. It's still busy here - the Square always is, really - but it's more quiet in comparison to the screaming excitement of Deca, at least. They're just perusing the streets at this point - they got here about ten minutes ago and still haven't settled on anything.

"Like I said, we didn't eat that long ago," Eight mumbles in response. Against the concrete sidewalk, Eight's boots make a nice and cool Clomp Clomp noise, which should totally add to her sex appeal. Of which she has a lot, but now she has MORE. Yeah. Sexy. Eight is sexy.

Yeah. Haven't you heard?

Eight _fucks._

Anyways, Eight's amazing sex appeal aside, she kinda wishes she wasn't here right now! Which, not to be rude to Four, 'cause Four is a really nice person and all, but like, what she was doing with Three was infinitely more fun than walking around aimlessly in the Square.

"... Hey, what's that place?" she asks, pointing at... A building. The windows (if they can even be _called_ that) are pitch black and reflective, so you can't see in it and you maybe can't see out. The doors are also like that, and the handles are just a simple silver. There's nothing identifiable there save for the neon sign reading, in all caps, ELF TIME! "Is it even open?"

"Oh," Three says nonchalantly, "That's the elf sex dungeon. Don't worry about it."

"The elf-" Four sighs and shakes her head. "No, it's some thing for Squidmas-"

"Elf. Sex. Dungeon," Three repeats sternly, giving Four a harsh glare.

"Okay. Fine. Elf sex dungeon."

"Elf sex dungeon," Eight repeats under her breath, cocking her head to the side. "... What's an elf?"

"So, um, I think originally they were acolytes of Altamaha-ha? But over time they were eventually reduced to... Short little fancy dudes with pointy ears," Four explains.

"And they hate dentists," Three adds.

Eight blinks. "What?"

"Yeah." Eight looks over at Four, who merely nods. "It's true."

"... And what's a sex dungeon?"

Three and Four share a look. Their mantles flash briefly, blinking hues of vibrant colors, and Eight, who does not know Squid Head Morse, clears her throat.

"... Hello?" she says quietly.

"... It's okay," Three mumbles eventually. "You don't need to know."

"Okay," Eight softly responds, and she knows in her hearts of hearts that she has to know as soon as possible. "But, um... Where do you want to go, exactly?"

Three looks over at Four and Four looks over at Three and Eight just has to sit there.

"... Eh," says Four with a shrug. Helpful!

"Wherever," Three mumbles, checking her nails. Helpful! "It's up to you, I don't care."

"You, like, _just_ suggested we go to the pizza place," Eight snaps, crossing her arms. "And it's _your_ birthday, Three! Not mine, yours!"

"Mh." Three keeps looking at her nails as a thin stripe of red shoots across her mantle. "I don't want pizza, though. Like I said, it's up to you."

"... What about that Jellain place that opened up down the street, then? It's supposed to be g-"

"I don't like Jellain," she says, cutting Eight off.

"... Anglerian?"

"Tatzelwurm beloved, are you trying to fucking kill me?" Three responds, words harsh but tone neutral. "I'll get a heart attack or two. Clogged arteries galore."

Four's mantle flashes a few times to get Three's attention before lighting up in a dizzying array of vibrant, blinding hues. Three responds by flashing back a few colors, and then both mantles light up in the same shade of purple. Three's mantle then begins rapidly - frantically, or, no... _Excitedly_ \- shifting colors (mostly all in the pink-to-orange range) all while Four's mantle grows greener as she starts blushing.

"OKAY," Four says eventually, apparently cutting Three off. "Alright. Uh, I really did not need to know all of that? But. Y'know. You have fun, uh. With that."

"Yes!" Three replies, grinning. "We will. Absolutely, we will."

Eight's not sure if she _wants_ to know what just happened or if she just _wants_ to be _colorblind._ Both seem like good options right now, honestly! Maybe both. Yeah. Eight'll have both, then.

"... Did you decide on what you wanted to eat?" Eight asks dryly, resting her hand on her hip. She bites back a quip about, _ahem,_ 'octo pie,' for... Well, a few reasons. A few reasons Eight doesn't need to say in a list, because she's not some sort of amateur, but also because Pearl already made an... 'Octo pie' quip, and Eight really doesn't want to ride off the coattails of her mom's - err, well, sister, legally, but she's got a Big Mom Energy - success... Or the mental images that cum with that! Err, come. Come, yeah. (Eight suppresses a gag at that. Disgusting.)

"Yeah, uh- Pizza's fine, yeah." Three grins widely, with an almost crazed look in her eyes that's brimming with... Pure chaos.

"You jus-"

"Yep!" she cuts her off in a _sing-song_ (Three, in a _SING-SONG._ Unbelievable!) tone, grabbing Eight's hand with her left and Four's in the other. "I know. People lie sometimes, Eight."

Eight shoots Four a look. Four shoots Eight a look.

"_Three is an idiot and a little bitch,"_ they agree, and then leave it at that.

* * *

Eight's excited! For pizza! Eight really likes pizza. She can't think of a food that she doesn't like! Well. Maybe tofu, because it almost tastes like the nutrition blocks she had in the Domes, but other than that, she can't think of a bad food! … Well. There's also pigeon, but it's less of a "This tastes bad!" and more of a "They're really cute and eating them makes me feel like a bad person!", which is more or less the same thing. Eight might prefer tofu to pigeon, actually.

But, see, you knew all that already! Just something Eight thought she should bring up, though. Just in case you forgot. Only, see, Eight's not all that excited for pizza. Sorry, she knows lying's _wrong and immoral_ but if her girlfriend can get away with it, she can too! She's not even really hungry, truth be told, because she ate, like, maybe two hours ago? And she only sort of agreed to it because it was the first thing that came to mind in an admittedly, uh... Lust-addled (?) state.

... No, not lust-addled. That sounds too creepy. Too - what's it called? Frickin' names - too, uh... Atramentonian-cartoon-things, the horny ones? It'll come to her eventually, yeah... But anyways, Eight wasn't _lust-addled,_ it was more of, uh... Vague desire. No, no, it wasn't vague, it was just... Desire, but then that _also_ sounds like some weird aspiring SeaFloorChan incel was trying to decide on a word for horny when he was spewing some purple prose to crank it to, and- You know what? Eight's just going to admit it. Eight was horny, and that's why she's eating pizza.

... Hm. Yep, no, that's a weird thing to hear out of context. Thank god these are just Eight's thoughts, with no one else to listen in on them! Haha.

Sure would, uh, be a shame if someone was listening in on her shameful inner monologues, wouldn't it?

Ha.

Haha.

Anyways,

"We're here!" Three breathes lightly as they step inside Sand Dollar. "It's been a bit since we came here, right?"

"I came here last we-"

"Didn't ask you!" Four glares down at Three. Three smiles up at Four. "Anyways. Eight, last time you came here wasn't recently, was it?"

"... Mh?" Eight blinks, having zoned out while thinking about... Things, and people, and actions! "Oh. Um, yeah. The last time I came was with you, yeah."

"Oh, when you had a gay breakdown in the parking lot?" Four asks, voice sweet.

"_We vives'helne-"_ Eight feels her face heat up. "It wasn't a _breakdown,_ Four!"

"It was a breakdown," Four responds flatly, holding open the door for the two of them.

"It _wasn't!"_

"No, Eight, it totally was," Three mumbles as she enters the building. "It's okay to be gay."

"No it isn't, Summer. Gay people aren't real." Three snickers a little after Four says that. Eight blinks and opens her mouth to speak, but then she remembers that her friends (with BENEFITS?) are stupid, and their humor is stupid also. "Don't let the media fool you."

"Fuck," Three hisses, almost theatrical. "You're serious? You mean the gays _aren't_ real?"

Four solemnly shakes her head. Three mimes sobbing. Eight makes eye contact with the waitress waiting for them all, so she lightly kicks Three's shin with the Clomp Clomp boots to tell her to stop crying.

"Um, hi!" Eight greets the waitress. "Three, please?"

Three looks up for a second before she realizes what's going on. She blushes slightly at her mistake, but she doesn't say anything, so neither does Eight - she just takes hold of Three's hand again and gives it a gentle squeeze, and the action makes Eight realize something - she's in love.

...

... Wait.

... Oh, shit.

"_Kāsne," _Eight swears beneath her breath.

Three looks over at her and cocks an eyebrow. "_If there's something wrong, you can tell me,"_ she says - or her face does, at least - to which Eight shakes her head with a slight smile.

"Thank you, angel," Eight mumbles in a hushed tone. Three's face flushes a dark orange, and she gives Eight a smile - something Eight didn't even know she was returning.

* * *

Lunch - if it could even be called that - went well, all things considered. At some point though, Eight had to admit that she and Three were slowly but surely getting maybe a _little _bit handsy - not a lot, and definitely nothing illegal, but, you know, more than _nothing_ \- and _maybe_ Four eventually caught wind of the shenanigans and _maybe, possibly_ Four told them all to just fuck already for the love of god, and _maybe, possibly, potentially_ Eight confidentally told Four that they absolutely would the moment Four was gone, and _maybe, possibly, potentially, perhaps_ Three and Four looked about as mortified as Eight felt once she realized she said that out loud, but- Okay. Point is, it worked, and now they're going home, and Eight might maybe possibly potentially perhapsially maybesially might be thrilled beyond belief, but who are you to judge?

... Oh, but wait! Wait just a moment, now - Eight remembered something important. Something relevant. Something... Something a little awkward.

The, eh... Anatomy issue. Because, that's a thing? Eight'll... Spare you the details - for the most part - but inkling sex was all 'pushy-pushy meat and other things' and octoling sex was all 'we're gonna cut off part of your hair, and then we need you to release some Bodily Fluids on it.' So, well... Yeah. No, that... That was awkward, actually.

And so, Eight thought to herself, "_Fuck! How will I dig myself out of this hole?"_ And the other, equally wise Eight responded with, "_Just don't tell her. You can blame it on Kamabo, or something,"_ but lying in that sort of intimate setting just seemed, well, _wrong._ Regardless, though, Eight settled on just telling Three, so when Four pulls in into their shared apartment complex building thing, they all step out and Eight hooks an arm around Three's waist, giving her butt a small squeeze.

"When we get inside," she murmurs, "We need to talk, okay?"

"... Okay," Three breathes, nodding against Eight's skin. "When- When we get in, we will."

Admittedly, the next few minutes were sort of a blur - hasty goodbyes, a few thank you's, a promise to text later, and a growing anxious pit in Eight's stomach.

By the time they made it to Three's apartment, Eight might have been freaking out a little. Just a tad, though.

"... So?" Three cocks her at Eight. "Did you actually need to talk about something, or..?" Her voice trails off, but her fingers toy with the hem of her skirt, almost teasing.

"Ah, well..." Eight heaves a sigh, opening the door to Three's bedroom and taking a seat on the bed, which Three also does. "It's... Both, almost."

"Both," Three repeats, voice flat.

Eight swallows hard and nods. "... Yeah. Uh, so- Okay, there's no way for me to put this nicely: about how much do you know about Octarian reproduction?"

Three's mantle flares up green. "What?"

"... Mh. Okay, so, uh. You want an explanation, or are you more... Hands-on?" Eight forces out, her face molten. She can barely meet Three's eyes anymore, and she knows for a fact Three won't meet hers anymore.

"I- Um. Well." Three has one of her tentacles in both hands as she gently squeezes it, thinking. "... I know the stereotypical 'sexy' answer would be hands-on, but- Can you just, give me a rundown? ... Please?"

Eight laughs to herself. "Yeah, I- I will, uh..."

And thus, Agent 3 received the 8th Coming of the Sex Talk: Octopus Edition. And the 8th Coming of the Sex Talk: Octopus Edition actually... Didn't really go that horribly. By the end of it, Three actually looked like she almost knew what she was getting herself into, and Eight didn't really feel like she was being melted by acid from the inside-out, which was a bonus.

"So," Three says quietly, a different shade of blue pulsing throughout her mantle. "What'd you say about a hands-on approach to learning, earlier?"

"Oh," Eight responds with a smile, "I really didn't think you'd take me up on that."

Raucously, Three laughs, bowling Eight over onto her back, and Eight's so happy that this is who she fell in love with.


	19. 4-4 Three feels

When Three wakes up the next morning, sunlight streams in through the blinds as she hears the quiet sounds of traffic and birdsong. A glance at her alarm clock reveals it's about a quarter to ten - she must've slept in, then.

There's a dull soreness to her body that she grows more aware of once she stretches, and the slight chill of the autumn air is refreshing as it hits her bare skin. Once she's finished stretching, her posture resumes its normal slouch.

Three looks down at the sheets tangled around her, and a slight rustling to the left of her makes her look over.

... Oh.

It's Eight.

Lazily, with half-lidded eyes, Eight stares at Three with a look filled with nothing but adoration. Three can't help but blush, and Eight laughs softly beneath her breath.

"Good morning, angel," Eight murmurs, her voice husky and laced with sleep. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," she responds, shifting where she sits. From outside, she can hear dovesong. "Did you?"

"Mhm," Eight hums with a nod. She sits up a little, the sheets rustling around her. "Mh, and last night?"

"Last..." Three bites her lip as she feels her face warm. "Oh. Um. Yeah. It... Was a night."

"In a bad way?" Eight asks, cocking her head to the side. Three catches glimpses of the dark blue hickeys dotting her neck.

"No!" she says hastily, grabbing a fistful of the sheets. "Um. I mean. It. It was nice, yeah. Did... Did you like it too?"

Eight nods with a soft hum. "But everything with you was good, right?" Three nods. "It was your first, wasn't it? I wanted to, you know... Make sure it didn't suck."

"Um..." Three looks away, down at the sheets covering her legs. "You were my first with a girl, if that counts."

"Ah, but..." Eight scoots closer, resting her head on Three's shoulder. "You, um... Only like women, right?" Three nods. "Is that... Not the sort of thing you've always known?"

"... Sort of," she settles on. "It's weird, you know? It, um..." Three exhales slowly. "I've always, like, known I like women, like... Since, um... Forever, really. And, it's not like my mom was forcing me to not be gay, 'cause she wasn't. She's always been super supportive and everything, no matter the challenges that come with me being a flaming dumpster of a lesbian." Eight snorts quietly. "But, um... My dad, he-" Eight tenses next to her. "No, no, relax. He didn't... Do anything to me." A pause, and she adds, "I swear." Eight exhales out her nose sharply. "He used to, um... Before he died, he was, um... Really... Uptight, I guess? Maybe controlling would be a better word?"

Eight blinks. "Can you, um... Elaborate?"

"Yeah, he was, um... Everything always had to be a certain way, I guess? Or else he'd yell at you. Things were... Never his fault. You couldn't do anything without him getting upset. It... You were just constantly fighting him, I guess. He'd do the same thing with my mom - he'd make us both constantly feel like shit and then blame it on us even when it was his fault - and it was... It was horrible. It was hell." She takes a moment to take a deep breath and slowly breathes out. "So, I... I don't know. Up until he died - so until I was fifteen, I guess - I didn't really... It was hard to feel wanted. To feel loved, you know?" She pulls her knees up to her chest. "So... I mean, once I moved to Inkopolis and stuff - about a year ago, I guess - I, um... Just started hooking up with people. 'Cause, y'know, it's simple. It's kinda easy, the whole... Act, I guess, and you feel good, and when you're laying there afterwards with your eyes closed, you can kinda trick yourself into thinking people actually care about you. Y'know, that they want you alone." Nothing's funny, but Three laughs anyways. Nothing's funny, so Eight doesn't.

"Gods, Three," Eight says eventually. "That's... That's horrible."

"Yeah," she responds, breathing out a sigh. "It makes you feel like shit after a while, since you're just spending all your free time getting fucked. But, when you haven't for... A week, even, you just feel... Kinda worthless, 'cause you're only good for one thing and you can't even do that. It sucks."

"I'm... I'm sure it does," Eight says quietly.

"... Hey, do you... You don't think of me differently after that, do you?" she asks, rubbing her arm. Eight should, though. Eight has no reason to stick around. "It's okay if you do. I get i-"

"No." Eight cuts her off. "Of course I don't. Three, I... I love you. I love you for you, including all of your quirks and all your flaws. You're special. You're you. You're..." Her voice trails off as she thinks. "Do you... Remember? Yesterday, how I had that dream?"

"The... The marriage one?"

Three feels Eight nod against her skin. "Right. That... I still think that. I still think it'd be nice, and... Maybe this is something I'm charging into too fast. I know we haven't been together long, but-" She takes a deep breath. "I love you, Summer. Nothing's going to change that."

Three feels her mantle flare up with emotion as she looks into Eight's eyes.

"It's true, you know," Eight murmurs, her voice soft. "I love you. And... You know, if- If you don't believe me, I'll keep telling you until you do. Until my voice is hoarse, until my lips are bleeding, I'll tell you that, since... It's true. I love you. I love you, Summer, I promise."

Eight's crying now, even if she's trying to hide it, hot, glittering tears rolling down her face, and- Oh. Oh, Three is too.

"l... Love you too, Eight," she mumbles, her voice warbling, about to shatter. "I really do."

"... Say it again," Eight demands, her voice equally low, equally broken. "Please."

"I love you," Three repeats, and each time she says it, it just feels more _real._ "I... I fucking love you."

Eight laughs, maybe just to herself, but she wraps her arms around Three and pulls her close, her skin soft against Three's own. "I love you too, angel. Please, don't ever forget that."

"I won't," Three breathes, tears freely flowing. "God, Eight, I won't."

"I know," she whispers, voice tickling Three's ear, "I know you never would."

As they lay there, quiet in the late morning, Three hears the birdsong outside and counts each repetition of Eight's breath, feels each rise and every fall of her chest, Three feels a blooming warmth spread from her hearts, stretching to every last bit of her body, filling the gap the void left in her.

Three feels herself healing. Three feels catharsis. Three feels... Loved.

Love...

... Yeah, what a beautiful thing that is.


	20. 5-1 Three gets mad over New Year's

"... Angel?"

In the quiet evening, Eight's voice - a low murmur - breaks the silence, and Three stirs besides her.

"Mm?" she hums softly, shifting on the bed. The sheets ruffle when she moves, but cling to her nonetheless. Three kicks her leg incessantly, attempting to wriggle free. She swears she hears Eight laugh at that, but neither of them say anything about it - instead, she tugs the sheet away from Three's form. "Thanks," Three mutters brusquely.

Pulling her into a warm embrace, Eight nods against the nape of her neck. "It's nothing." A few seconds pass like that, comforting silence settling over the two again. Slowly, Eight's hands slide down Three's form, thin fingers beginning to tease at Three's thigh.

"Eight," Three starts, pulling her thigh away. "Eight, I just got out of the shower. I don't want to shower again."

"... Mm, but..." Her breath is hot against Three's skin as her hand gropes at Three's flesh. "I could help, you know..?"

"Just go use your hand," Three snaps, eliciting an indignant squawk from the perpetrator, accompanied with a brief flash of blue. "Didn't you have a question to ask me?"

"Oh, right." Eight shifts a little, squeezing Three tight towards her bare chest. "Do you ever think about how, like, body odor... It smells kinda like weed. Isn't that weird?"

Of all things for her girlfriend to say, Three was _not_ expecting that.

"What?" she practically snaps in response. "I- _Eight,_ you-" Three draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly, shoving Eight away. She sits up and presses herself against the cool wall, finally out of the girlfriend-microwave death trap. "Are you talking about cannabis?" Sprawling out on the mattress, Eight nods. Like a _stoner._ Like the _fucking stoner she is._ "How the _fuck_ do you know what cannabis smells like?"

"Oh," she mumbles, blinking lazily. "It's illegal, isn't it?" Three makes a face. "Mm. Well, it was sort of legal in Octaria. Smells like body odor."

"Sort of legal," Three repeats, rolling her eyes. "Are you a criminal? Do you commit crimes?"

"It was legal if no one caught you," she explains. Dryly, Three laughs at that. "C'mooon, don't be mean." She jabs an accusatory finger at Three's general direction, bumping clumsily into her side. Her hand flops sadly onto the bed with a dull slap. "Like, it wasn't _really_ a crime - it was pretty much everywhere, after all - and possessing it wasn't the illegal part! It was about the fire aspect. Like, literally just the smoking part. So you'd either have to come up with some fancy way to get high off it or try and light a joint with, like, an exposed wire, and _that_ had its own problems, and-" She looks up to meet Three's extremely disappointed gaze. "... Don't look at me like that! And you can't even shame me for formerly doing it because the Elders know you've done worse."

"It's not _about_ that, it's just-" Three bites her tongue. Well, see, it _was_ certainly about that - not that Three _super_ cares, only she does since cannabis is one of the most highly-illegal drugs in the _WORLD,_ and Eight, just, fucking admitted to smoking it by_ lighting it with exposed wire_ (? the hell?) but that fact made even LESS sense once Three started to think about it more. "... The Octarian drinking age is twenty-five, right?" Eight nods. "Do you - Eight, babe - don't you think it's at least a _little_ stupid that the drinking age is _that_ high when fucking _cannabis_ is perfectly legal?"

Eight makes a face and bites her lip, rolling onto her back. "... No," she settles on. "Alcohol is too expensive to produce for such a small country, since we barely had enough room for farms, let alone farms for stuff that wasn't just the staples, and it can cause brain damage."

"... Cannabis also causes brain damage," Three points out helpfully.

"It's cute that you think that," Eight responds sweetly. Three rolls her eyes and reaches for her phone. "... But, yeah. I mean, I wouldn't smoke it _now._ I'm just saying that body odor smells like weed."

"Eight, you won't even touch a glass of wine," Three mutters, squinting at her phone as she tries to find that one study she's thinking of. "Do you even know how to work a lighter?"

"I can learn. It can't be that hard," she replies. "What's the worst that could happen anyways? I get a burn?"

Images of the Houzuki-Iida household blazing away to ashes haunt Three's mind. "... Y'know, I think you don't need a lighter anyways."

Eight blows a raspberry at her, wiggling her way up the bed. She lays her head on Three's arm, peering down at her phone. "You're _boring._ I'd make a great non-arsonist."

"... Babe, do you mean a firefighter?" Three asks with a small laugh. Even if she wasn't looking, she'd be able to tell that Eight was flustered based purely off the sudden heat her arm felt.

Face flushed, Eight furrows her brow and pouts. "No! I said what I said." Three moves her arm out from under Eight's head, a silent invitation to let her rest her head on her lap, which Eight does. Three's hand soon returns, gently patting Eight's mantle.

"Right," she breathes, smirking, "Of course you did."

Eight lets out a quiet mumble - Three can't hear it, but she's sure it's some sort of insult. "... What were you looking up?" she asks quietly, looking at the pages of search results that came up for _'cannabis brain damage - Squoogle'. _"... Squoogle's such a stupid name for a search engine. I could do so much better," Eight mutters, although it's probably more to herself than anything else. Biting back a laugh, Three gently scratches at the space right between Eight's ear and where her tentacles grow. Eight's ear twitches, although she doesn't make any effort to stop her. Instead, she blinks slowly and taps at some ad on the SquebMD page (titled _Adverse Effects of Cannabis - The World's Most Dangerous Drug_). "Three, what's that?" Having accidentally clicked on the ad, they both wait for the page to load.

"... Oh, that." She gives the loaded website a few flicks, blindly skimming through the wall of text. "It's just an ad for some K-Clear stuff."

"Yeah, but what is it..?"

Three gives it another look. It's some inkling she doesn't know the name of - albeit very conventionally attractive, and Three has to admit she's capable of being very basic at times - with metallically golden ink and large blue eyes - a darker blue, yet still too vivid to be natural. Surrounding the pupils are rings from the lights above, like miniature halos. The woman's tentacles are relatively plump and seductively lustrous, stretching down to about her thighs. The rest of her is covered in a white dress, adorned with silver accents. She's laying on her back, surrounded by white feathers, and in her hand is something like a wine glass, filled with a slightly cloudy liquid. It's raised towards the camera in a toast and, despite everything, dominates the frame.

"Wow," Eight deadpans as Three suddenly becomes very aware of the slight heat to her face, "That sure is a woman, Three. Take a screenshot, it'll last longer." Three gives a very half-assed flick to Eight's temple, which the other woman snickers at.

"... Shut up," Three mumbles, pulling her legs a bit closer to her chest. Eight lets out a quiet grunt as the mass of Three's thigh collides with her throat. "Sorry."

"You tried to _assassinate_ me," Eight whines, rolling over dramatically and presses - no, smushes, definitely - her face into the bare flesh of Three's stomach. Her next words, in turn, come out muffled: "So _cruel!_ So _evil!"_

"Can it, you big baby." Eight wraps her arms around Three's waist and lets out some muffled sobbing noises. "Seriously, stop it." She doesn't have to see Eight's face to know she's grinning ear-to-ear like a shark that got into the aquarium.

"Whuh ah eh?" Eight asks - or something like it, if Three were to attempt to transcribe muffled speech.

"What the fuck are you saying?"

Eight pulls her face away and makes eye contact, resting her head against Three's thighs. "What was it?"

"... _Nyuunihera_ ad," Three mumbles as she very discreetly takes a screenshot for later viewing. She scrolls down a bit more and squints at the tiny text. "The special kind, though. Have you had _nyuunihera pekyu_ before?"

"They had a whole woman with a wine glass out for... Lionfish sweaters?" Eight asks, confusion evident in her voice. "What?"

Three blinks and then bursts out laughing, leaving a dumbfounded Eight to merely stare at her.

"I- No," she says eventually between snickers. "No, babe, you're- You're thinking of _nyunihera._ _Nyuunihera_ is... Not the same as _nyunihera."_

"Of course," Eight mutters bitterly. "I can't wait until I can get it confused with _nyu'unihera."_

"... That's a word, y'know." Eight blinks at her. "Yeah. For beanstalk. You did know that, right?"

"Your language is dumb," Eight decides, deflecting the question. "Your language is dumb and we should switch to a better language that doesn't suck."

"Aaanyways," Three breathes out. "... _Nyuunihera_ is, like, an Atramentonian drink. It's alcoholic and all, but it's the kind of thing where you can get away with giving a fourteen year old a watered-down glass of it if they're bothering you a lot." She pauses. "... Not that I have, of course. But, uh... It's, um, a fancier drink, I _guess?_ It's sweeter than other alcohol with a weird aftertaste, typically served either ice-cold or really hot with no in-between, but _nyuunihera pekyu_ is only served around New Year's and you have to drink it hot. It's wicked expensive though, but it's super strong."

"... Mm, okay." Eight yawns, stretching. "So... Why around New Year's?"

"Because New Year's is special?" Three says slowly. "Eight, do... Did you not celebrate New Year's?"

"Uhhh." Eight rolls her eyes. "Of course not? It's just the end of a marking period."

"That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard," Three states objectively. "You're trying to tell me that not _once_ have you ever done anything for New Year's? Not even a little song and dance or whatever?"

"... Oh, I've never danced before. I never understood it," she responds. "And, um... No, I haven't. We didn't... Do that."

"... That's stupid. That's stupid and dumb and I'm gonna tell Pearl," Three says. "And I'm gonna make Pearl make you do a little song and dance."

"You're _mean,"_ she whines. "You're mean and you have a big head."

"Eight, come on. You _need_ to participate in the joy of New Year's at least once! You _have_ to. Fuck that Squidmas shit, _New Year's_ is where it's at."

"But Squidmas has a point to it?" Eight says wrongly and incorrectly. "There's no objective use for New Year's. You just do paperwork."

"... New Year's is, like... A celebration that you survived through the past year, or whatever. Did you guys really not bother with those sort of things?"

"That's what a birthday's for, Three," she says dryly, but she doesn't make eye contact any longer. Almost... _Bitterly,_ Eight mutters, "It's funny that you _surface-dwellers_ have that celebration, of all things. But, you know-" She breathes the last words out in a bit of an exasperated sigh. "- The surface is _all_ about parties, right..?"

"Yeah," Three mumbles, setting her phone down on the nightstand. "It really is."

Perhaps hearing the slight edge in her tone, Eight pulls her head off Three's lap, laying down beside her atop the pile of kicked-away sheets.

"... Goodnight, Three," she says, a strange quality to her tone.

Flicking the lamp off, Three clenches her jaw once before muttering back, "Yeah. Goodnight."


End file.
